


Earthquake

by PrussianBluu (ryuutora)



Series: Survival Skills [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Cuddly BFs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lots of kissing, M/M, Yeah I'm a bag of dicks, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, hella fucking gay, it's cute I swear, my sincerest apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 62,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2218440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuutora/pseuds/PrussianBluu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If 'Koushi' means 'support', then Sugawara really lives up to their name. Daichi couldn't be more grateful if he tried, and he does everything in his power to return the favour.</p><p>(Or: it's the zombie apocalypse, everyone's stressed as hell, and Suga's there to make it all better.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Precursor

**Author's Note:**

> Earthquake: A sudden and violent shaking of the ground, sometimes causing great destruction.
> 
> Please note that this fic is literally like 98% fluff and 2% angst I'm not kidding. It's just doting boyfriends and Karasuno family antics but during the apocalypse. And yeah, they're all close enough that they use each other's first names (for the most part) given that they live together and rely on each other and that all that jazz. 
> 
> (whispers 'im so sorry tsukki i truly do love you')

        A captain never loses his composure.

       No, that’s not right.

       A captain stays strong in front of his teammates. A captain – a good captain, a proper captain – never loses his composure around them. He acts as a sturdy support for them in every situation. He makes sure they are in high spirits, that they believe in themselves, that even a fall so far, so hard that it seems like nothing will ever ever _ever_ get better is something they can spring back from.

       But a good, proper captain, no matter how strong, has a breaking point. After a lost game, when he’s alone, he may wallow, he may cry, he may be furious. So even the best captain needs his own support.

       Sometimes Daichi thinks Suga would make a better leader. He has trouble actually reprimanding the team, actually being angry at with them, but he _is_ a support. Everyone looks up to him so much. Everyone relies on him. He keeps them calm when the situation seems dire.

       Daichi’s not sure he compares.

       “Daichi, really, they look to you for orders. You keep them organized. You keep them on their feet. I just…I just wipe tears and then tell no one they were there in the first place, you know?” Suga whispers in the confines of their tent, when it’s too late in the night for the team to be listening in and Daichi voices his troubles, gaze fixed on the canvas behind Suga’s head. “The most I can do is comfort them. I couldn’t keep us _alive_ like you do.”

       He leans into the touch when Sugawara’s hand brushes his cheek. They should probably put some clothes on in case one of the younger members has a nightmare or something. He wouldn’t want them running into the tent to find them naked like this. But he keeps that to himself, because a bit of laughter and embarrassment and _normalcy_ would do them so much good right now. “I think you could, though. You keep everyone so calm. You’re _Koushi_. You’re meant to support a team like this. Maybe our roles were meant to be reversed.”

       “I’m Koushi and you’re Daichi. We’re the support and the ground. But, I think I wasn’t meant to support everyone. Just you.” He smiles reassuringly, but there’s the tiniest bit of hesitation behind it.

       Daichi catches his hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “You do an exceptional job of that,” he murmurs against his skin. _Don’t ever go, please. You’re right: you_ are _my support, and I don’t know how I’d live without you_. “Do you really think we can carry on like this?”

       “With a leader like you, there’s not a doubt in my mind.”

       Ukai could’ve done it. Takeda could have, too, or even Shimizu. Anybody but Daichi. But none of them showed up to the damn gym. It was a miracle the whole team did, so he can’t exactly be upset, but a fucking adult presence would be really helpful sometimes. Adults, especially ones like coach and sensei, were more capable of keeping a group of kids alive than another kid.

       It’s not as though Daichi’s even the most qualified here. Asahi could try. Even _Sugawara_ would probably handle this better than Daichi, and is therefore a better leader in his eyes. But Asahi’s too much of a baby. Suga’s the best leader they could have, so if his opinion is that Daichi is better suited to command them, then command he will.

       He still remembers the first day, when Miyagi fell. How his first instinct had been to help his family, how he had flown home from the restaurant, all too reluctant to let Suga out of his sight as he did the same. They promised to meet at the gym. Texted the whole team to do the same, to bring their families, saying that they’d all get out together. Go somewhere. Nowhere was safe, but they were hopeful. They’d take their families and go to safety and never have to think about the terror of those few hours when death walked the streets of their previously peaceful neighbourhoods. And they’d all shown up alone.

       Daichi himself had had blood on his clothes and a distant look in his eyes. He remembers the overwhelming relief of seeing Suga run down the street, then the horror of realizing that he was also on his own. And he was crying. Oh, Daichi must’ve been crying, too. Then Hinata, on his bike, crashing into a pillar in his haste and his shaken state. Kageyama shortly after. Nishinoya with Tanaka and Asahi in tow. Tsukishima half-carrying Yamaguchi, who was trembling and gagging like he’d already emptied his stomach completely but needed to rid himself of something more. Suga had taken a towel from his hastily-packed bag and tried to clean the blood from their faces, asking how they were, if they wanted to talk about it, and helping Tsukishima set his friend down to relax.

       Narita and Kinoshita had been pursued by a monster (zombies, Tanaka called them, and Tsukishima had nodded in subdued agreement), and nobody moved for a few seconds after they collapsed outside the doors, gasping, because nobody knew what to do. Rather, some did, and no one wanted to do it.

       And Daichi had, finally, because he needed to protect his teammates if he couldn’t protect his own damn family. This was going to be his family now, he decided in that moment, and refused to think again of the state of his parents as he locked them in their room, the hissing and groaning and the sound of nails and fists on the door as he fled. Dead. _Not_ dead. Not human. His brother gone but blood all over the hallway.

       He’d waited until he got out of the house to be sick.

       So when he drew the knife from his belt, he’d done exactly what he couldn’t bring himself to do with his parents. And it worked. It worked and he hated himself, but Suga assured him quietly that it wasn’t human, it wasn’t _murder_ , as he stood over the body and just stared. Not human, but it had been.

       And Ennoshita last, swinging around the side of the gym with tears pouring down his face, seeing that no one else had family to speak of anymore and pressing his face into his hands to muffle the sobs. He carefully avoided being anywhere near the zombie, despite the reassurances that it was dead, for good this time. And when he finally approached the team, Narita, Kinoshita, and Tanaka had gathered him into their arms and cried with him.

       They had to _go_. Yeah, they were all upset; of course they were fucking upset, some of them had just seen their families die, some had stumbled upon them already dead, some had been forced to kill them in self-defence, and it had all happened so damn fast that it was fucking surreal. He’d been on a _date_. The happiest thing he could've been doing today, and then a television announcement and phones buzzing and panic and fleeing and death.

       But they needed to get the hell out of there and find somewhere safe. So he demanded that Kageyama haul Hinata to his feet, that Asahi stop looking so dumbstruck, that Yamaguchi get ahold of himself, and that they run. Shimizu had stopped responding to his texts nearly half an hour ago, and Hinata, after careful questioning from Suga, said the same of Yachi.

       This was a dire situation. They didn’t have time to ‘hope for the best’. Admittedly, the city wasn’t necessarily a smart place to be, but his plans had worked well enough.

       And here they are. Living on the roof of a building at the edge of a desolate city in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. Raiding stores for food, supplies, weapons, anything. Climbing a fire escape when they can, a shitty old rope ladder when they can’t. At some point, Hinata had commented that they were living like actual crows, and it had at least brought smiles to a few peoples’ faces.

       But by God, it’s so difficult to keep everyone alive. It’s so draining to keep them all hopeful. Because how can there be hope when there’s no end in sight? He can’t say with certainty that they’ll be okay. He can’t promise them that they’ll find safety and security someday.

       He nods. “Thank you, Koushi,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss him properly. The flashlight flickers above their heads. They’re almost out of batteries, Daichi remembers. As though he needs another thing to worry about. “We should get to sleep. You’re on first guard tomorrow.”

       Suga nods and shimmies into the tattered old pyjama pants he left in the corner earlier. Daichi forgoes pants and settles for sleeping in his boxers and t-shirt, turning the flashlight off and bathing them in complete darkness. Their tent is the one closest to the door leading into the building. All the windows at the bottom are broken, leaving it open to invasion, and even with the chain-link fencing they covered all the openings with and the boards nailed to the door (poorly, very poorly, because nails don’t work well in bricks and steel, so they jammed them into cracks and hoped for the best), he’s not comfortable having any of the younger team members that close to potential danger.

       Which reminds him; he’s got to send a party out tomorrow to check the barricades downstairs. He might as well go himself. Maybe take Asahi and Noya.

       “Daichi, don’t worry so much. Just let tomorrow happen. Sleep for now,” Suga demands, scooting closer and slamming his head down on Daichi’s chest with a _harrumph_. His boyfriend grunts, but wraps an arm around him and nods. Sleep. Right. He can’t do a good job of taking care of everyone if he’s sleep-deprived.

       He presses his face to Suga’s hair, banishes all thoughts outside of how warm he is and how pleasant he smells (despite not having to been able to shower yet this week) and how fucking _important_ he is, and sleeps.

 

*

       “Rise and shine,” Suga’s voice pierces the cold morning air, wraps around Daichi’s brain and yanks him free from his dreams. “C’mon. I have to go, and you have a team to organize.” He pats Daichi’s leg roughly, then shakes it. Daichi groans.

       They definitely stayed up too late last night. “How can you be so cheery this early?” he grumbles, removing his arm from over his eyes to find that the tent is only lit by the faint grey light of dawn.

       “I’m not. I’m as tired as you. But if we drag our feet, everyone else does, remember?” Suga unzips the tent door, and Daichi can see Tanaka outlined on his perch on the edge of the roof, keeping guard. He’ll be going to sleep once he’s relieved of the duty. If he isn’t sleeping already.

He can also see the dark marks littering Suga’s throat, and bites his lip to hide a smile. “Do you still have that scarf I found a few months ago?”

“Daichiiii,” he whines, hands flying up to his throat. “You’re lucky it’s cold enough that I have an excuse. I thought I said be careful with that.” Despite his complaints, he rummages around in the bag beside the pile of blankets they call a bed until he finds the thick, blue wool scarf and winds it around his neck.

“I like the sounds you make,” he offers apologetically, sitting up and stretching before helping Suga adjust the scarf so it sits comfortably on his shoulders.

“I didn’t give you hickeys,” Suga grumbles, but he's smiling behind the fabric. Daichi gives in to temptation and kisses him. He really does like the way he reacts to Daichi giving him hickeys, but the aftermath is almost enough to make him stop doing it.

“That,” he begins, kissing him again before continuing, “is because my throat isn’t nearly as sensitive. There’s no point.” Possessiveness aside, that is. But he couldn’t exactly call Sugawara a possessive person. Just exceptionally affectionate and caring.

He expects some kind of retort, like ‘my throat’s not sensitive either’, which is a complete lie and they both know it, but instead Suga wrinkles his nose and laughs. “Please tell me we still have toothpaste.”

“That bad, eh?” Daichi makes a point of kissing him a third time, tugging the scarf down for better access. Suga pushes him back into the bed and presses his lips to his cheek.

“Just give me the toothpaste.” Everyone has the same basic necessities in their tent: water bottles, toothpaste, toilet paper, clothes, blankets, weapons (primarily bladed ones, but Daichi and Sugawara have a gun, as do Asahi and Nishinoya), a bit of food, the whole shebang. And there’s a supply tent right in the middle of their camp, with a proper food supply, more weapons, more everything. So they may have raided a few dozen stores for all those tents. They’re extremely useful, and it was lucky they managed to find enough, since so many other people have been looting as well. Daichi holds Suga to him as he draws his own bag close and fishes the half-empty tube of toothpaste from it.

“Don’t use too much water,” he reminds him, pressing the tube to his hand. It hasn’t rained in a while, so they have to use water sparingly. And everything else.

“Come with me,” Suga urges, prying himself off of Daichi and ducking out of the tent, bending back over to stare hopefully at him.

He shakes his head. “I’ll catch up. I’m not wearing pants right now,” he explains, drawing the blankets back to show him that he’s still only in boxers. And here Suga’s already in track pants and a hoodie. How fucking early must he have gotten up…

“Kei woke me. I’m surprised you didn’t hear.” Suga flashes him a smile and stands to walk to the water basin on the nearest corner of the roof, behind the semicircle of tents.

Daichi closes the door, puts proper clothes on, and hurries after him. He slips his arms around his neck and holds back the scarf just as he's leaning over to spit the mouthful of foamy, minty water over the edge of the roof, effectively startling him into nearly swallowing it. “Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles before he can yell at him, dropping the scarf and using his sleeve to wipe his mouth dry.

“Don’t scare me like that.” Suga pouts once the sleeve leaves his lips. There’s no real discontent behind it.

“Can I kiss you again?” Daichi asks softly, hands still hovering near his face. It’s a good thing only Tsukishima and Tanaka are awake this early; the more childish members of the group tend to act revolted by strong displays of affection out in the open. Which is hypocritical, because Hinata is very eager to be affectionate with Kageyama in broad daylight. He just can’t handle seeing his friends do the same.

Of course, Suga shakes his head. “Brush your teeth first.”

Daichi sticks out his tongue and takes the toothpaste when it’s handed to him. This hardly qualifies as brushing one’s teeth, since they just pour toothpaste onto their fingers and scrub at their teeth until they feel relatively clean. But it’s the best they can do.

Suga’s already ushering Tanaka into his tent when he finishes. He’s yawning and dragging his feet, and Daichi feels bad for putting him on such an early shift. At least standing guard after dawn is somewhat normal, and a much better time to wake up than around two in the morning. So maybe he’s being too nice to Suga, giving him the easier workload and finding him little gifts on his trips through the city. And almost never letting him off the roof.

He just wants him safe and happy. Something that requires a surfeit of careful planning and organization on his part.

Maybe Tsukishima and Yamaguchi would be better for him to take for patrol, since Asahi doesn’t fare well in such a violent environment. He has the potential to be an incredible protection for the team, but his fear of injuring even the undead makes him useless. He would expect, since Asahi is afraid of these ‘zombies’ themselves, that he’d be more than willing to kill them, but alas; he just runs away most of the time.

He leaves Sugawara to his job, gazing out over the more crowded part of the city to make sure no people or zombies get too close, bow and arrows resting on the cement beside them. Daichi generally leaves guard duty to those with better aim and an understanding that a quiet demeanour goes a long way. Hordes passing through need to be left alone unless they start trying to enter the building. So he ensures that no noise is made once they receive the warning that one is present, usually resulting in demanding that everyone hide in their tents but himself and their current guard.

“Hey,” he says softly, crouching down to Tsukishima’s eye level. He’s leaning back against the half-wall that surrounds the perimeter of the roof. “How’s Tadashi?”

Tsukishima shrugs noncommittally. “Had a nightmare last night. Didn’t want to bother Suga,” he offers, not meeting Daichi’s gaze.

Yamaguchi’s state of mental health is poor, and has been since the initial outbreak, but there’s definitely been some improvement from his earlier refusal to eat or speak. They’re all going through about the same thing, Suga had explained, so surely he could find a bright side to things, surely he could pull himself up, will himself to live. He’d be long dead if that conversation hadn’t taken place. Daichi sighs and leans back so he’s balancing on his heels.

“How are _you_?”

Tsukishima glances up at him, hesitates a moment, then shrugs again. “Had a nightmare last night. Didn’t want to bother Suga,” he repeats, and Daichi detects the faintest trace of amusement in his tone.

“You can bother me, too, y’know.” He turns and seats himself beside his teammate, back pressing against the freezing cement, and how the hell does Tsukishima look so relaxed when sitting here is so damn uncomfortable? “He's not the only one who can listen and help.”

“Yeah,” the blonde is looking away again, tugging at his shoelace as he speaks. “We thought you have enough to worry about already without us acting like children and asking for comfort after bad dreams or shitty days.”

Daichi laughs, but it’s brief and breathy. “What kind of captain would I be if I couldn’t handle my team acting like kids?” It’s not as though most of them didn’t do it before their world had fallen apart. He’d felt, even when he’d been _just_ the captain of their volleyball team, like he was dealing with a group of toddlers on a regular basis. Now, as leader and captain of a group of teenagers fighting to survive, he still finds that life is that way sometimes. “Koushi’s busy right now, but you can still talk to him if you go over there. Otherwise, I’m always ready to listen.” He pats Tsukishima lightly on the shoulder. Hopes he’ll at least say something that will help Daichi to help him.

“We never did tell anyone what happened the first day,” he whispers, and when he looks to Daichi it’s with the eyes of a lost child. “I think…it might be my fault Tadashi’s the way he is. That’s why I try to help him. I’d really be a heartless bastard if I fucked him up like that and left him to fend for himself.”

It’s too damn early for a heart-to-heart. He knows that, but it’s what he was asking for. Daichi marvels at Suga’s tolerance. He wants to help – he really does, this is a person he’s responsible for – but hell if he’s in any state to deal with such an onslaught of emotion.

Admittedly, he’s a bit scared to hear what Tsukishima has to say.

“You can tell me. I won’t say anything to anyone else if you don’t want me to.”

Shit.

Tsukishima nods. “He had a kid brother. I didn’t know much about him. I kind of feel like shit for that now. He was a nice kid, but Tadashi spent more time at my house than I did at his, so I never even learnt his name. And his parents were – they were really great people. I was such an ungrateful prick sometimes. I guess we all are, but I was bad. I didn’t pay them much mind, I was just adequately polite.

“I was in my room when it happened. Just watching a movie on my computer. And then I heard screaming downstairs, and my dad calling my name, and by the time I got there the whole hall and living room were full of blood and…and _them_. Not zombies. Well, yes zombies, but my family was in _pieces_. And then a zombie came around the corner and I knew. I’ve seen a lot of television shows and stuff about them, and I made the connection and ran. As fast as I could. Just out of the house and down the street, and I didn’t even think twice, I didn’t even look back to see if I was being followed.” He shakes his head and draws his knees to his chest. “And then I was at Yamaguchi’s house. I don’t know what the hell brought me there. He’s kind of the only person I ever really considered a friend, and it took me that much panic to realize that, and that maybe I should’ve treated him better, since he’s put up with my bullshit for so long.”

Daichi should really interrupt. He’s being too self-deprecating for his liking. But if it’s going to help him, to get all this off his chest, he supposes that maybe it’s okay.

Yeah, Sugawara is definitely better at this.

“I thought he was dead. I thought he was dead, and I’d never been more scared in my life. I don’t even know if it was because I’d just seen my family’s bodies in shreds in my house, or comprehending how dangerous the situation was, or knowing _I_ could die at any moment. But when I was outside his house, the last thing I wanted was to walk in there and find him dead, and I was terrified.” Tsukishima takes a moment to remove his glasses – they’re cracked and the left lens is smudged with dirt – and set them on the roof beside him. Daichi feels pity and sympathy bubble up in his chest. “I didn’t open the door until I heard him talking. Well, he wasn’t talking. He was…I don’t know. He was sobbing, I guess. Crying out for help. He’d locked himself in the bathroom and his mom had turned and I don’t even _know_ where his dad was. But his brother was one of them, too, and they were trying to break the door down. I got your text then. Right when I walked into the hall. I didn’t check it until after.

“I called his name, and they both turned and looked at me. Not really…they didn’t really look like they understood, just like they’d heard a noise and thought ‘food.’ I heard him say something from inside the bathroom, like he was surprised. Probably my name, I don’t know, I was too busy backing the fuck away. They went after _me_. I didn’t want to kill my only friend’s family. But I ended up in the kitchen, and found a knife, and they followed me the whole time while I circled back around to the hallway and tried to just get us both out of there before I _had_ to do it. That was really stupid. Really, really stupid. I almost got him killed because I didn’t want to have to kill something that was already dead. I’d just gotten him out of the bathroom when they caught up. And it wasn’t like he was going to do it. I had the knife, I had the knowledge, and I just fucking stabbed it through their eyes and hoped for the best.

“It worked on his brother. He stopped moving. But his mom just kept coming after us even with the knife stuck in her eye and we ran upstairs to get his brother’s shitty little T-ball bat and I smashed her head in. I _smashed someone’s head in with a T-ball bat_. Do you have any idea how disgusting that is? He _watched_ me do it. My best friend in the whole damn world watched me bludgeon his mother’s re-animated corpse with a little plastic bat,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face and blinking up at the dull grey sky. “I thought I’d seen gore at my house. But fuck, you haven’t seen gore until there’s blood and brains on your hands and face. And he was too close, and it was on him, too, and the whole thing was just gross and horrible and I have nightmares about it all the fucking time. And he does, too, and it’s my fault.”

Daichi waits a few moments, not certain he’s finished, but Tsukishima has fallen quiet and is staring hard at the pavement at his feet, arms folded over his legs. He’s just a kid, Daichi reminds himself. Still just a kid. And what the fuck does one say to console a kid in a situation like this? “It wasn’t your fault. It’s _not_ your fault. You did what you had to do to save your friend. If you hadn’t acted, he’d be dead. And he’s grateful for that, I’m sure.”

“His brother was four,” Tsukishima whispers thickly, hands sliding up to cover his head as he presses his face against his knees. “That’s the worst part. I looked at this little undead toddler and thought about how defenseless he would be if he hadn’t been bitten and then stuck a knife in his eye to protect myself.”

Daichi rubs his back the way he’s seen Suga do to the first years a few times. There’s not really an appropriate way to respond to that. Not that he knows of.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to think of one. “It’s stupid that we’re all fine, the whole damn team, but none of us has a family to speak of,” he continues, lifting his hands so he can turn to look at his captain. There are tears in his eyes. Daichi shifts closer.

“I think…” he pauses to look around at their makeshift camp. “I think we’ve got a pretty good family here, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima murmurs after a moment’s silence. “I do.”

 

*

 

       Hinata comes scrambling out of his tent at what Daichi guesses is seven in the morning, tugging a shirt over his head as he trips over himself on his way to the tent by the doors. Upon the realization that it’s empty, he turns on his heel and looks around the roof.

“Over here,” Suga calls, light and muted in the foggy air, and waves him over to the corner where he stands guard.

Hinata scurries between tents, past Daichi as he rations old granola bars and stale cereal for breakfast and sets them aside until everyone’s awake; right into Suga’s waiting arms. He’s expressed the greatest fear of the zombies out of anyone on the team. It’s not irrational. If anything, rationality would spawn immobilizing fear of such monsters. But, as with Yamaguchi, he’s improving. He goes out on more patrols, more raids, has killed his share of them in the past few weeks, and Daichi couldn’t be more proud.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that he isn’t still afraid, and he looks to be crying as Suga pets his hair and hugs him tightly.

They sit out on the corner together for some time, talking quietly. The sun finally breaks through the clouds by the time Daichi makes rounds to rouse the rest of the team. He makes sure to stop by Tanaka’s tent last, knowing he needs the extra sleep after a night shift, as does Ennoshita, who had the shift just before him. It’s a damn good thing they share a tent.

Everyone is in some state of disarray when they emerge from their tents. Not that that’s a surprise. Suga will probably have them cleaned and cheered by noon. For now, Daichi exchanges ‘good morning’s and ‘sleep well?’s, handing food to each kid as they approach the supply tent where he sits on a folded blanket surrounded by other seats and cushions. He waits until everyone but Suga and Hinata are seated and yawning and talking tiredly and munching on what little food they have before taking off to the guard post with a breakfast for the three of them.

“Hey,” he says, passing a granola bar to each of them and placing a cracked container with a handful of Cheerios on the ledge between them. “Anything interesting happening?” Hinata’s eyes are still a bit red, so he flashes a warm smile as he takes a seat beside Suga.

Suga shrugs and unwraps the aluminum packaging. He grimaces slightly at the bland crunch of too many months spent uneaten. “Not a single zombie all morning. I think that’s a new record, right Shouyou?”

Hinata munches thoughtfully on the Cheerios for a moment. “Nuh-uh, because remember last month there was a day that none came by from lunch until after bedtime? And none of the ones who did after came close enough to bother us,” he finishes proudly, opening his own granola bar.

He’s right, because back then Daichi had allowed himself the fleeting hope that the threat was subsiding. And he continues to allow the rest of the team to cling to that hope, for cases like Hinata and Yamaguchi, who can’t handle the stress of constant danger as well as Daichi had expected. Which wasn’t much to begin with.

Even now, he sees the spark in Hinata’s eyes at the idea that maybe there are less zombies roaming the streets than there were a few months ago. “Y’know, I’m thinking of taking a patrol out to check the perimeter and maybe go raid the hardware store on the east end. Did you want to come?” he asks around a mouthful of shitty, old cereal.

There’s only slight hesitation before the, “Yeah, totally!” This, if nothing else, is a good sign. But Daichi supposes his next bit of news won’t be so satisfying to the first year.

“I’ll be sending Tobio out on a separate patrol for food, so someone else will be coming with us.”

Hinata hums. “Can we take Kei?”

Well that’s a fucking surprise if Daichi’s ever gotten one. He catches Suga’s astonished look. “I…yeah, sure, uh…why?”

“Oh!” He laughs behind his hand. “Because he’s good at dealing with the zombies. Otherwise I really wouldn’t want to be out there with him.”

Too bad Tsukishima fucking hates everything about killing them. They have no other choice, unfortunately, because an inability to act swiftly and without remorse is fatal. Tsukishima adapts to survive. They all will, eventually, even those who still have qualms with picking up a bat or blade and raising it in self-defence. Daichi nods. “I was considering taking him anyway. Anyone else you want with us?” That’s how it works; the comfort of the younger team members comes first. Typically there are only three people to a patrol, but there can be more if Hinata so desires.

Lessons learnt from Suga. Caretaker extraordinaire. First year handler unlike any other. Second year trainer with no rival. Daichi fucking sucks at such things way more than he ever thought he did, leaving Suga to train him in the art of kouhai-care.

But Hinata shakes his head and grins. “I’m okay with just us three.”

That leaves Nishinoya, Kageyama, and Narita all available for food collection, with others on duty around camp for the day. Daichi voices his plans to his company, pausing when Kageyama approaches them. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“Dumbass, come have breakfast with everyone else,” he mumbles as he extends a hand to Hinata, eyebrows drawn together. Social butterfly Hinata doesn’t belong in a corner during community gatherings. He latches onto Kageyama’s hand and smiles at his captain and vice-captain. In turn, Suga passes him the container of cereal.

“Here. Daichi and I already ate some,” he explains when Hinata gives him a quizzical look, head tilted and lips parted. Which is a lie. But Daichi has the same mindset; make sure everyone else is fed. He himself isn’t priority. Sugawara, on the other hand, has been reduced to a pale twig in recent months and Daichi would really prefer it if he got some food in his stomach for once.

He honestly expects him to offer the granola bar as well. He’d have to smack him for that. Not really. He’d have to threaten to smack him for that.

Kageyama and Hinata thank him and continue on their way to rejoin the rest of the team. Daichi frowns at Suga. “Don’t just give away your food like that.”

“Sorry. But technically it wasn’t just mine, and he’s so tiny. He should be the one to eat more.” Suga crumples up the wrapper and stuffs it in the pocket of his sweater. Daichi notices for the first time how full of holes it is. “I haven’t really lost as much weight as some of the other members.”

“That’s wrong. I’m pretty sure you’ve lost the most weight, after Yuu.” He reaches over to tug the sleeves of the hoodie up past his wrists – damn, it’s really thin material, too; doesn’t Suga know how to take care of himself? – and clasp his fingers easily around his forearm. He doesn’t let go, instead turning his arm so he can see the way Daichi’s fingers fit around it and the way the bone of his wrist protrudes sharply. “See? Eat more.”

Suga’s hair falls into his face as he shake his head, smiling. “Too many mouths to feed. Maybe if we ever find somewhere with a constant food supply.”

 _Maybe_. Daichi continues to be amazed by his significant other. ‘ _Maybe_ I won’t let myself starve’. “Koushi, what the hell am I gonna do if you let yourself get sick?”

“Ah. Um.” He looks away briefly, fiddling with the scarf. “I mean, I’m perfectly healthy, relative to our current living conditions, so I’m no more likely to get sick than anyone else. And besides, we should be worrying about _you_. You’ve lost weight, too, and we can’t live without our captain.”

“Seriously, Koushi. We’re both gonna start looking out for ourselves better, then. And don’t lie to the first years about how much you’ve eaten; they don’t know any better,” Daichi pleads, and he’s relieved to see Suga nod. “To start, go put warmer clothes on. I _know_ you brought some back from your last patrol, because you were showing me how thick the pants and jackets were when you got here.”

“See, the second years were complaining that they were cold last week, so I don’t have those anymore,” he says under his breath. The scarf must be one of his warmest articles of clothing, then. Daichi sighs.

“I have a bag of clothes in our tent, too, you know. Use some of those.”

Suga looks surprised. As though he didn’t constantly ask to wear his clothes before all this happened. “Really?”

“What’s mine is yours.”

 

 

It turns out that what’s Daichi’s is comically large on Suga. Or, it _would_ be comical, if it weren’t so worrying. His clothes used to be big on him before, but now he's swimming in his smallest t-shirt, and almost lost in his only other hoodie. He sighs. The track pants he's already wearing are okay to keep him warm for now.

“I’ll get you clothes on the way to the hardware store,” he promises as he rolls the sleeves up enough that Suga’s hands aren’t covered, hidden away in the fading warmth of their tent.

He frowns. “I can get some on my next patrol. Don’t go out of your way for me.”

“Koushi, you take damn good care of me, and you have for long enough. It’s about time I started taking care of you, too. And who knows; there could be winter gear in the store. I’ll get you clothes to wear.”

Suga catches his face between his hands and draws him close enough that their lips brush lightly. “We don’t have to wear clothes,” he murmurs, a mischievous smile breaking out on his face. Daichi mirrors it, slipping a hand around the back of his head to kiss him properly.

“We don’t. _But,_ I have a patrol to take out soon. So maybe later,” he says against his lips.

Neither of them mentions that whatever they do later is entirely dependent on the results of Daichi’s time on patrol. Nor do they mention the possibility that he may not return at all. Instead they link hands and wander back outside together to gather and direct their teammates, prepping Daichi’s perimeter and supplies patrol for an extensive journey and Nishinoya’s food collection patrol for a slightly shorter but no less dangerous trip.

Suga, being the vice-captain, is in charge of the camp while Daichi is out. They both spend some extra time in the supply tent deciding what food they can spare to send out with the two groups, and what else can be given to those staying behind for lunch. In the end, it’s the rest of the cereal, hopefully-not-too-old fruit roll ups, and definitely somewhat stale bread. Daichi brings up the idea of hunting in the woods by the mountain, to which Suga nods contemplatively and agrees (so long as no weapons or ammo are lost or wasted in the process).

And that’s that. They’ll try hunting next week, but for now whatever food they collect from stores, apartments, and houses will have to do. Daichi gathers and arms his own patrol while Suga does the same for Nishinoya’s. Asahi and Sugawara drop the rope ladder down one side of the building to allow Daichi and company down to start perimeter check, Tanaka armed with a crossbow keeping an eye out for any zombies during their descent. As Daichi starts down the ladder, he catches sight of Nishinoya hoisting himself over the partition opposite him to drop onto the fire escape below.

Behind Daichi comes Hinata, then Tsukishima, landing on the stack of rotting wood and rocks that make up for the last few metres of space that the ladder doesn’t cover. The ladder will be there with a guard until they come back, then they’ll store it in the supply tent until the next patrol to take the back way goes out. Fortunately, the apartment building on the outskirts really _is_ on the outskirts; there’s a stretch of barren field directly behind it, where no surprises can hide, and beyond that a scraggly grove of fruitless trees. It’s taking the fire escape that’s dangerous, because often, zombies wander out of nearby buildings or come crashing down the alley at the sound or smell of a patrol.

“Alright.” Daichi adjusts the bent katana over his shoulder and the butcher’s knife clipped to his belt. “Ready to go?” As easy as getting to the ground may be, getting into the city may prove difficult. Both of his teammates are looking nervous already. They nod nonetheless.

Good. He wouldn’t let them turn back anyway. It may be important to ensure the comfort of the younger students, but babying them won’t be any help. He smiles and starts off toward the western side of the building to check the integrity of the chain-link fence barricades. If they get some time, they should really reinforce them more, he thinks, but preparing for the seemingly brutal winter that’s on the way is going to be priority for some time.

 

 


	2. Buildup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi cares about Suga so much that sometimes, it hurts. But the good makes up for the bad, y'know?

       Cold weather must make zombies slow, or confuse them, because they’ve encountered exactly two on the way to the hardware store when any other day they would’ve seen at least ten.

       It’s nerve-wracking, more than anything. Too different from what Daichi has become accustomed too. But he won’t complain. Fuck, he does the opposite: there’s a smile on his face as he rams his fist against the front doors of the store and ducks behind the wall with his kouhai. Silence. Perfect.

       They still wait a few minutes before going in, and still have their weapons drawn and minds alert. It’s not until Daichi is digging around under a fallen set of shelves for a winter coat that anything shows up, and even then Hinata has it pinned and killed instantaneously, a growing smile on his face.

       “Nice job,” Daichi congratulates, finally freeing a pale silver parka from its confines. Hinata stands and wipes smudges of gore from his pant leg, pride shining in his eyes, then thanks him and scurries off to the camping gear. Or, what’s left of it. Someone’s been by already, but they definitely left quite a bit behind to be picked over.

      While Hinata tosses several pocket knives and other sharp objects into the frayed bag he carries on his back, Tsukishima hauls a tent over from the back corner. They need it, since the ones they’re using are wearing thin and winter doesn’t hint at playing fair this year. There was once a few shelves of candy by the front registers, but what’s left has been mostly ruined by mice and bug populations, so the grand total for edible snacks deposited into Hinata’s bag is fourteen. There’s a bag of chips among it, at the very least.

       At Hinata’s gasp from the far wall, Daichi nearly has a goddamn heart attack. He thinks for a moment that another zombie has made a surprise appearance, or perhaps even several, but then the redhead bounds around the corner with a crossbow and fishing rod in his hands. “Look, look! Another crossbow! Tanaka can teach me how to use it!” he whispers excitedly, hugging it to his chest. It even has a dozen arrows with it.

       “Yeah, I’m sure he’d love that,” Daichi comments, bending down to inspect it. It’s in much better condition than the crappy old one Tanaka managed to snag from the shed behind his house.

       They leave with Hinata carrying the crossbow like it’s the world’s greatest treasure, Daichi carrying the bag with the food, weapons, and fishing rod over one shoulder and the parka and two pairs of boots in his other arm, and Tsukishima with the tent slung across his back. It’s a hell of a lot earlier than they expected to be leaving, but it’s still quite a ways back to camp, even with the unusual lack of interruptions.

       But yeah, it’s early, so at Hinata’s suggestion they duck into a drug store tucked into a corner about halfway home. This turns out to be just about the best idea he’s ever had. They thought the hardware store had been relatively untouched, but this is ridiculous. Apparently nobody had looked twice at the place in months. There is a plethora of first aid supplies along one wall, bottles upon bottles of anything they could hope for across from the counter (Daichi nearly fills the rest of the bag with medication ranging from everyday painkillers to things he can’t even begin to read the labels on), toilet paper, blessed toilet paper, in excess somewhere near the centre of the store. He takes a moment to fill the extra space in the pack with a few boxes of condoms and bottles of lubricant, knowing that they may as well be a necessity in the camp.

       Hinata once again expresses his enthusiasm about something with a flurry of noise and a gasp, then appears before Daichi with a petite crow plush balanced on the palm of his hand. “Can I take it back with me?” he begs, evidently expecting that Daichi plans to control his life.

       Daichi only laughs lightly. “Of course. I have no say in that.” It feels almost like he’s a father to his team lately. Almost.

       “Oh, really?! There are more by the doors. Like, other animals, but there might be more crows, too.” He grabs Daichi’s hand and tugs him over to the front again, then begins sifting through the plush toys again, sending several skidding across the floor in his haste. “Here!” he calls triumphantly pressing a second crow toy into his captain’s outstretched hand and beaming.

       Tsukishima peeks around a far row of shelves. “Don’t make so much noise,” he reprimands, reminding Daichi that noise control is his job. He only smiles understandingly at Hinata’s sheepish look.

       “I’ll get Kei one, too,” he decides, tucking his bird into his pocket before setting about finding a third crow in the mess of cats, dogs, giraffes, owls, lizards, and countless other miniature beasts.

      Daichi pats his shoulder and turns away to hide the plushie in one of the boots. He adjusts his hold on the bag, shoes, and coat to make room for the packs of toilet paper he collects in his arms. He’ll make sure Hinata gets as many first aid supplies as he can carry on the way out.

       Already Tsukishima is making for the doors with an armful of bathroom tissue and a plastic bag stuffed with toothbrushes, toothpaste, razors, and deodorant. Daichi thanks all that is good in the world that he’s not dreaming. They might finally go a few months without smelling exactly as teenage boys are expected to.

       He smiles again as he ushers Hinata out of the store with several more bags dangling from his arms.

 

*

 

       There are few complications on the return trip. Since Tsukishima has the most manageable burden, he’s tasked with monster removal for the three lone zombies they stumble upon.

       Suga and Asahi climb down the ladder to help them. The moment Suga’s feet hit the ground, he spins around and pounces on Daichi, kissing him with clear relief in his movements and taking the toilet paper from his arms to carry up the ladder. Hinata scrunches up his face at the blatant display of affection, but allows Asahi so take some bags from him.

       Now it’s Tanaka and Kinoshita who support the ladder for them. Once they’re all at the top, they roll it up and store it in the supply tent.

       “Good news,” Sugawara announces as he helps Daichi remove the bag from his shoulder. “Yuu’s patrol came back with water bottles, three backpacks of canned food, and a jumbo box of instant rice. _And_  extra cooking supplies, including another portable stove and six bottles of propane.”

       It’s been a lucky day all around.

       All five of the people with supplies head over to the supply tent to set everything down, leaving Daichi and Suga to reorganize. It’s deeply satisfying to see it cluttered for once.

      Daichi lowers the boots to the cement and takes everything from Suga’s arms to do the same. “Turn around,” he says quietly. When he obeys, Daichi lifts his arms and maneuvers the parka onto his shoulders, flipping the hood up. He turns him again, smiling fondly. “Warm?”

       He nods, pressing his nose into the fur lining the hood. “Very. Did you get one, too? And maybe if there are more we can get one for everyone who needs one.”

       “I didn’t yet. I’m thinking of taking another patrol out to the same place tomorrow. And there’s a drug store along the way that’s almost full of useful things, so I think we should empty that out before the weather gets too bad.” He zips the parka up and kisses Suga’s forehead.

       He hums. “Good. I’ll go, then.”

       Of course he will. Daichi leans forward to rest his head on his shoulder. “You’ll make me worried,” he complains.

       “What do you think I’ve been doing all day?” Suga wraps his arms securely around him and holds him close. “You can’t baby me and no one else, Daichi; it’s not fair.”

       He can’t. He shouldn’t. But any sane person would feel overprotective of their significant other in such a world. “Wouldn’t you do the same if you were captain?”

       Suga’s breathy laughter whips past his ear. “No. I’d suck it up and be a cruel dictator. I wouldn’t baby anyone.”

       “You’d baby _everyone_ ,” Daichi snorts, pushing the hood back and the scarf down to kiss his throat briefly. “Including me.”

       “I baby you plenty as it is.”

       They stay wrapped up in each other a while longer, but duty calls, and when the backpack Daichi left by his feet tips over, they both heave reluctant sighs and detangle themselves. The atmosphere is happy. Hopeful, even. They have enough supplies to last two or three months, and the means of restocking the bountiful supply at any time.

       It’s not until he’s slipping his feet into one of the pairs of boots he brought back that Daichi remembers the crow. His toe squishes it into the end of the boot, surprising him for a moment. “Oh, Koushi,” he calls, distracting him from storing the last can of soup on the stack in the front corner, “Hinata found something earlier and I thought you might like it.”

       “Next patrol I’m on, I’m bringing back nothing but gifts for you,” Suga chides, grinning as he stands and brushing his knees off. Daichi grins back. He holds out his hand as he beckons him over, bird clutched in his fingers, as it’s barely the size of a ping-pong ball, if that.

       The look on Suga’s face when he drops the toy into his palm only makes his cheeks ache from the force of his smile. He's happy, as expected, but there’s adoration in his eyes as well.

       “Daichi…thank you,” he murmurs, swooping in to kiss his cheek, then his lips. “Thank you. I didn’t even think we could bother with stuff like this.”

       And Daichi understands. He didn’t a moment ago, but the glossy look in his eyes is enough. Survival tools hardly count as gifts, but giving them as gifts has become a norm for them. Giving something that has no practical use, no real value in this life, isn’t something he’d considered before. Now, it’s as though he’s handed a piece of their old lives to Suga, presented him with something he never thought he would see again.

       Maybe it brings thoughts of the past. Maybe they’re painful. But hell if it’s not soothing, in some way or another, to feel normal again. He wants to cling to the feeling for as long as possible.

       He steps forward to close the space between them and clasps Suga’s face in his hands, thumbs running over his cheeks as he all but slams their lips together. The supply tent, tall and spacious as it is, may not be the best place to try to wrestle one’s significant other’s clothes off, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I love you,” he tells him, pausing a moment to rest their foreheads together. It becomes a mantra as he undoes the parka and starts to tug the scarf away.

       There’s the sound of boisterous laughter just outside the tent, and of boots clunking against the pavement. Daichi freezes as he is slipping the parka from Suga’s shoulders and backing him into the straight canvas wall of the tent, his gaze flying to the entrance. But the noises pass them by, followed by Hinata’s muffled voice taunting Kageyama about being too easily embarrassed.

       “Maybe the supply tent isn’t the best place to try this?” Suga offers, shrugging.

       Daichi nods. At least people generally give a warning of some sort before entering a personal tent. The supply tent is a free-for-all; team members come and go at all times of the day. “Our tent, then?”

       “Yeah. But maybe we should wait until tonight. It’s still kind of early.” The sun set about an hour ago, which, all things considered, isn’t horribly early, but to a group of teenagers it’s nowhere near “late”. So that’s definitely an option. Except that Daichi already has his knee between Suga’s thighs and his lips hovering over his.

       He’s quite certain Suga’s as unwilling to just wait as he is. Teammates first, of course – no boyfriend time until they’re positive everyone’s settled in for the night, and as comfortable as content as they can manage to make them. “Have they had dinner?”

       “I fed them while you were out. Which means you three still need to eat, and there’s soup out by the cushions, so—“

       “I found condoms. And lube.”

       And that’s all it takes for Suga to break free from his grasp and high-tail it to their tent.

 

*

 

       “Take Tadashi out today,” Daichi tells Suga under his breath as he tries to find a suitable pot for cooking rice. He actually heard Tsukishima outside the tent this morning, calling for Suga to wake up, and had sent him off and woken him on his own. He should really tell the first year to at least _try_  to sleep more, but he sincerely doubts he’ll listen.

       But he’s up, dressed and ready, a slightly rattier scarf than Suga’s covering his own throat, and they’re making breakfast together before the sun has even started its desperate battle against the clouds that hid the stars all night.

       Suga nods, making an attempt at measuring out enough rice to make it even with the water. “And Kei?”

       “Of course. Did you want anyone else with you?” he asks, setting a large pot and lid down out by the camp stove. It’s dark as all hell, and the fact that the flashlight battery is still dying doesn’t help. He taps it roughly against his hand a few times.

       He shakes his head and places a container of rice in Daichi’s hands. “Just us three is plenty. But thank you. Did you want us to go to that drug store you mentioned?”

       “Yup.” He empties a jug of water into the pot, turns the stove on, and twirls the flashlight about until the light lands on Tsukishima sitting cross-legged outside his tent, headphones on even though he can’t listen to music anymore. “Kei, come help with breakfast.”

       Tsukishima doesn’t hesitate to stand and stalk over to them, gladly accepting the distraction of a chore. But he doesn’t talk.

       “I’m sending you out on a patrol with Suga and Tadashi today. Are you okay with that?”

       He looks vaguely surprised at the mention of Sugawara actually going somewhere that isn’t the roof, but then his lips are pulled down into a frown. “I don’t mind going. He shouldn’t, though.”

       None of them have to think about who ‘he’ is. Daichi and Suga exchange an understanding look, then turn to him. “We can’t keep him cooped up here forever. He’s afraid.”

       “And the only way to change that is to send him out to where they are.”

       “With people he trusts. Which is definitely you, and hopefully me.”

       “The only way to get stronger is to fight,” Daichi finishes, slipping his gloves back onto his hands and flexing his fingers beneath the dark fabric.

       Tsukishima sighs heavily. “I’ll ask him after breakfast.”

       That’s exactly what Daichi wants to hear. He claps his teammate jovially on the shoulder and tells him to go find crackers in the tent.

       Yamaguchi needs to be on the ground more than Hinata or Asahi. He’s a mess around zombies, which is dangerous to both himself and his teammates. They need to find a way to keep him calm when he catches sight of one, and to help him actually kill one.

       The first and only time Daichi sent him on patrol, he cried the moment he was off the roof and nearly died because he couldn’t summon the courage to defend himself. He’s been trapped up here since.

       “Daichi.” Suga’s hand lands on his, squeezing gently, and he still hasn’t put his gloves back on. “You’re distracted. He’ll be fine. I’ll make sure he’s fine. Just focus on keeping everyone occupied and happy while I’m gone.”

       He twists his hands to capture Suga’s and hold them firmly between his palms for warmth. “I know. I just feel bad, making him go out when he’s so scared of them. I know you’ll take care of them. You always do. Now put your gloves on before you get frostbite,” he says, reaching into his pocket and digging the gloves out, dislodging the crow plush in the process.

       “Ah, whoops.” Suga stoops and places it back in his pocket before allowing Daichi to tug the gloves onto his hands. He kisses his fingertips afterward, making him laugh lightly and kiss his cheek. “I’m gonna use it as a good luck charm, I think.”

       Daichi couldn’t possibly ask for anything more than that. He presses his fingers to the fabric covering the pocket the toy is in. “I’m glad.”

       Tsukishima brings them the crackers – a bit stale, but not terribly so, and definitely enough to go around – once they’ve settled down by the stove to keep warm. Suga smiles up at him before he sits, gesturing back toward his tent. “You should sleep some more. It’s really early.”

       Tsukishima shrugs. “I’m okay. But thanks.”

       Daichi wants to speak up when he pulls a cushion over and sits to watch the small flame from the stove. He looks over to Suga, who’s pressed against his side. Maybe he had a nightmare. Again. That seems like a reasonable explanation.

       “Did you want to talk?” Sugawara finally asks, scooting a bit closer to Tsukishima and holding out a hand. He latches on to his fingers, albeit loosely, and shakes his head.

       “Not really.”

       Suga hums. “Okay.”

       It’s Daichi’s turn to shift so that he’s close to Suga again, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder. Silence befalls them for a short time, until the sun starts to brighten the sky, and Daichi can see Kageyama silhouetted on the far corner of the roof. He isn’t at all surprised to see Hinata out there with him, but from the looks of it the redhead is sound asleep in his lap.

       When they can actually see the sun, Suga speaks, low and careful, turning almost bodily to look at Tsukishima. “You’re worried that Tadashi will get hurt.”

       That’s a way to put it bluntly. Tsukishima flinches a bit, then squares his shoulders and looks away from the fire. “Wouldn’t you be?” He looks embarrassed at the words, but he doesn’t tear his gaze from Suga’s.

       “Exactly. I always worry when Daichi goes out on patrol, especially when I’m not with him. I worry about _everyone_  who goes out, to be honest. So rest assured, you’re not alone in the feeling. And you’ll be there with him, and I’ll be there with both of you. We’ll make sure nothing happens.”

       Suga’s actually an angel. He probably isn’t, really, but Daichi thinks that too often for it to be a complete lie. He tightens his grip on him and smiles reassuringly at Tsukishima. “The zombies seem to be a lot less active in the cold, and since it’s really freezing today, I’m sure you won’t run into trouble.”

       The tension that frees itself from Tsukishima is almost tangible. His shoulders sink a bit and his eyes become less dark, his expression less fretful. That may just be the rising sun, though. Daichi can’t be sure.

       “Suga will take care of you,” he says finally, detangling himself from his boyfriend and standing to wander back into the biting cold away from the stove and relieve Kageyama from guard duty. And apparently Hinata as well, though he’s not doing a particularly good job.

       Kageyama turns to blink tiredly up at him as he approaches, his grip on Hinata tightening subconsciously. They’ve bundled themselves in blankets from their tent, which might just be one of the smartest things they’ve done in two months.

       “You can sleep. I’ll wake Asahi.” He holds out his arms to take Hinata and carry him back to the tent, if only to save Kageyama the burden, since he looks about ready to collapse himself. But the first year just shakes his head and lifts Hinata himself, rolling his shoulders and neck to work out the kinks. Daichi retracts his hands and smiles. “Anything happen?”

       “Nothing I could see,” Kageyama says, yawning as he shrugs, and the blanket around his shoulders hits the ground. He glares at it momentarily. “It was too dark. Apparently Kazuhito almost couldn’t find our tent to wake me up.”

       Daichi nods and gathers the blanket into his arms, gesturing for Kageyama to make his way to his tent. “I figured as much. Thank you for keeping guard anyway.”

       He hums, then yawns again, and Daichi really does feel bad about making him get up so early. Once Kageyama has Hinata situated, he hands him the blanket and bids him a second goodnight, closing the tent door behind him. Then he hikes his scarf up around his ears and makes his way to Asahi and Nishinoya’s shared tent.

       Waking up Asahi is always met with conflicted emotions. He _wants_  to be harsh about waking him up, at least to some extent, but Nishinoya has headaches quite often and quite severely, and making so much noise seems cruel. He yanks the tent door open and clicks his flashlight on, shining it into Asahi’s face. “Up.” He shakes his shoulder. “Time to guard the camp.”

       Asahi clamps his hand over his eyes and groans. “That hurts,” he complains, making a lame attempt at pushing the flashlight away.

       “Up,” Daichi repeats as he turns the light off and crams it back in his pocket. He pauses before leaving to whack his arm. “If you’re not out there in five minutes, no breakfast.”

       He chuckles at the horrified sound his friend makes and the frantic rustling of fabric that follows. He’s not going to comment on the fact that he was spooning Nishinoya. He’ll pretend he never saw. That’s quite possibly the nicest thing he’ll ever do for him.

       He settles back down beside Suga, desperate for the warmth provided by both another human and the leftover heat radiating from the camp stove despite the burner being off now. “How’s breakfast going?”

       “It’s just rice. It can’t exactly go wrong,” he laughs, combing his fingers through his hair. “Can you get some bowls and cutlery?”

       Daichi huffs and wraps himself around his torso, burying his nose against the curve of his neck even though Tsukishima is barely twenty centimetres away. “’S cold. It can wait.”

       And it really, truly is cold as _fuck_. He’s already reconsidering sending the patrol out. But Suga is dead set on being more productive than sitting around camp allows for, so he may be left with no choice.

 

 

       Fortunately, it’s significantly warmer by the time everybody’s woken up and eaten breakfast. Asahi included, since he got dressed and cleaned in record time, but he stays off on the corner of the roof and Daichi and Suga wait until after Nishinoya goes to sit by the supply tent with everyone else before they leave to eat their breakfast with him.

       “I think it may snow today,” Daichi comments after a period of silence. Snow would be a blessing right now. They could melt it down and have water, and they’ve been so low for so long, even with that whole pack of water bottles…

       Suga hums softly. “I hope it doesn’t snow too much, though. I wouldn’t want to get caught in a storm.”

       Yeah, Daichi hadn’t really thought about that. Now he chews contemplatively on the inside of his cheek and prays that any snowfall happens after the sun sets and the patrol has returned. “I made a list of things we really need. I didn’t think to check for water bottles yesterday, but I don’t think there were any. Still, if you see some, those are priority right now.” He digs the crinkled scrap of paper from his pocket and smoothes the edges as a distraction from the newly troubled thoughts that cloud his mind, then gives it carefully to Suga. “Be careful.”

       Even knowing that the zombies that terrorize them are nearly dormant in this weather doesn’t placate him in the slightest.

 

*

 

       Suga keeps a hand on Yamaguchi’s arm as he helps him onto the partition and waits for Tsukishima to lower him onto the fire escape. All the doors leading from the platforms to the inside of the building have been barricaded carefully so as not to endanger patrols as they come and go.

       Still, Daichi would rather they took the ladder, if it meant avoiding all those doors on the way down.

       Since the only other person nearby is Tanaka, and he’s sufficiently occupied with passing empty bags down to the first years, he takes the chance to pull Suga to him and kiss him firmly and repeatedly. He's been on patrols before, of course, but it’s been weeks now and Daichi is no longer accustomed to the anxiety letting him leave produces. “You’ve got the katana, right?” It’s right there, strapped to his hip, but he touches the sheath just to be sure. And the dagger on his other side.

       Poor Suga has to go through this shitstorm of negative emotions every time he goes out. They should probably patrol together more often. But then, Daichi fears, he’ll focus more on his companion than his job, which already seems to be a recurring issue.

       “I’ve got everything I need. Including lunch for the three of us, so you don’t have to worry about us starving or anything,” he adds teasingly, kissing his forehead as he extracts himself from his grip and climb over the partition. “See you this afternoon.”

       Daichi scrambles over to the edge of the roof as he disappears to lead the small group down the steps. “Stay safe,” he calls, trying to remain as quiet as possible, but it still feels as though his voice rings out across half the city because the silence hanging stiffly in the air is so overwhelming.

       He stays where he is, bare fingers clutching at the icy cement of the wall and shoulders hunched defeatedly, until all three of them have disappeared around the block. When he turns back, it’s to find Tanaka directing their sleepy teammates as they mill about and start the chores for the day: washing the dishes – water, water, water; always the need for water – and ensuring the security of the tents, which are all held down with fairly large rocks instead of pegs and don’t look to be going anywhere anytime soon. There’s also the need for cleaning up everyone’s living spaces, and Daichi doesn’t even have to be the one to give the order for that, leaving him incredulous as Tanaka waves Hinata and Kageyama over to inform them that their tent is a wreck.

       For a team comprised of children (because really, that’s all most of them are) they certainly make a very good functional unit, he thinks, and ducks his head against a blast of chill air on his way to help the poor second year out a bit.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stage I of an earthquake is the buildup of elastic strain. As the two sides of a fault move, elastic strain slowly builds up in the rocks, and the rock particles become compressed together."  
> beatboxes aggressively  
> aight SO  
> Fret not dear children I'll finish the fic soon enough and then post a bunch of chapters at once probably. Won't that be fun???  
> Also sorry I killed so many characters?? I mean it was only like four mains and then literally everyone's family but hey, shit happens, right?  
> No?  
> Yeah, sorry...  
> And sorry I didn't apologize in chapter one for that bit. Idk if you've caught on but I am literal shit; you will rarely encounter a bigger asshole than me.  
> Until next time!!! <3


	3. Compression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temporary panic mode - courtesy of none other than Daichi - and Suga's troubled, troubled life. But it's fine; they'll take care of each other.

       It’s storming. Badly.

       Around noon, there had been light snow, so light Daichi almost didn’t notice it was even snowing. But he sure as hell noticed that it picked up, falling faster and heavier and covering the ground in a fine layer in minutes. And he’d looked down the street, found he couldn’t quite make out the corner that his teammates had turned at, and cursed his stupidity.

       If they were at the store at the time Daichi leant over the partition and frantically searched the street for them despite knowing full well it was much too soon for them to return, then it was still nearly a two hour walk back, unless they rushed.

       Just an hour from that time, he’s pacing back and forth across the roof, pausing occasionally to assist his teammates in their attempts to better secure the tents against the wind. They aren’t too badly threatened by the storm, strong as the wind may be, because the rocks that the guide wires are hooked and tied to are heavy as all hell.

       When the flurry of snow is bad enough that he can’t see the other end of the roof, he demands that they all go into their tents and wait it out. If the weather hasn’t calmed by the time dinner comes round, they can eat whatever is in their tents already. They all have _something_ , anyway.

       Daichi stays outside, lingering by the top of the fire escape. He’s put his gloves on again, and he’s wearing the boots he grabbed from the hardware store, trying to keep his legs and arms moving to stay warm. He comes close to tumbling off the roof when Tanaka materializes beside him, munching on a granola bar and grinning. He holds out a second bar once Daichi’s calmed himself.

       “Party in my tent, apparently. Second and third years, since Shou and Tobio are ‘tired’.”

       Daichi huffs and unwraps the granola bar. He hadn’t even realized how goddamn hungry he was. “By tired, I assume you mean they’re asleep?”

       “Yeah. It can’t be later than three in the afternoon. That’s ridiculous,” Tanaka complains, but an affectionate smile tugs at his lips.

       “Tobio had dawn watch today,” Daichi informs him; he wishes he could share in Tanaka’s amusement, but there’s too much on his mind right now. “Shouyou joined him.”

       The second year hums around the last mouthful of food. “I see now. Kinda cruel putting the babies on dawn watch, don’t you think?”

       Quite possibly the only good thing that’s come from the apocalypse (that _is_  what this is, or the best way he can describe it) is a newfound relationship between the team members. They’re all on a first name basis most of the time – everyone still seems to call Sugawara ‘Suga’, though, and Daichi’s not about to complain – and are vastly more comfortable with each other than when they were just a volleyball team.

       As such, Tanaka has no qualms elbowing him playfully in the ribs. Daichi, unfortunately, doesn’t share in his mood, and it only takes a tight-lipped look for him to realize this.

       “You don’t have to worry,” Tanaka sighs, and he finally gives in to the cold and flips the hood of his coat up over his ears. His baldness is far from helpful in the colder months. Daichi would ban razors altogether if only to prevent him from shaving his head yet again, but the third years and even some second years genuinely need them. Oh, fuck; he’s still talking. He needs to stop thinking so much. “Suga’s smart. He’ll find somewhere to stay until the storm passes.”

       ‘Somewhere to stay’ could be full of zombies. ‘Somewhere to stay’ could be a place Daichi never finds, a place his teammates die. His _teammates_  are out there. His _friends_. His best friend, significant other, lover, whatever they care to call each other, is out in a snowstorm with two first years in a monster-infested city in the apocalypse because they need supplies.

       He sent them out there and they might die. He hates this responsibility so damn much it hurts.

       “Woah, woah, hey, don’t freak out.” Daichi’s head snaps up and Tanaka’s hands are digging into his shoulders and his eyebrows are knotted together. He’s hyperventilating. Daichi is hyperventilating. What an embarrassing thing to do in front of someone who looks up to him as a captain.

       He’s their captain; he needs to be strong for them, he can’t break down in front of them. He can only do that in front of Suga. He really, _really_  needs Suga right now.

       “Sorry, I’m fine,” he gasps, backing out of Tanaka’s grasp and shaking his head slightly to compose himself, taking a few deep breaths. “You should go back to your tent. It’s freezing.”

       Being alone is not the best idea right now. Far from it. He doesn’t care, though. It’s Suga’s presence that comforts him or it’s no one’s. Of course, Tanaka shakes his head and pats him on the back. “Nah. I’m okay out here.”

       The wind picks up momentarily and slaps Daichi across the face. He scowls.

       “There’s not a guard out right now, is there?” Tanaka asks after a while, and his captain glances over at him and offers a half-smile.

       “I _am_  the guard right now.” Not that there’s anything to guard against. Zombies, for all their strength in tearing down blockades and wrestling people to the ground, don’t have good enough balance to keep themselves upright in a storm like this, if they’re mobile at all.

       The only thing he’s watching for is his teammates. The only thing he can think about, the thing that keeps surfacing in his consciousness, that permeates every last one of his thoughts, is that he may have sent them to their deaths.

       Breathe. He needs to breathe, because he can’t lose his composure in front of Tanaka again. It wouldn’t be fair of him. He has to keep himself upright so his team can remain upright. Breathe.

       “Ah. I thought it was Hinata’s turn to guard.”

       Well, Hinata’s sleeping, so even if Daichi had put him on duty he might not have been much use. And he’s hardly going to let a first year freeze to death in his care. He just shrugs and turns his attention back to the wall of white before him. The roof of the building opposite him peeks through the snow occasionally, flashes of brown among the seemingly impenetrable barrier, and he focuses intently on it like it’s his only salvation.

       “Daichi.”

       He doesn’t want distractions, for god’s sake. He wants to wallow on his own. He wants to fret on his _own_.

       “Daichi!”

       Suga or no one.

       “Captain!” Tanaka cries over the screeching of winter wind in Daichi’s ears. He looks over to see Tanaka jumping and gesticulating at something by the foot of their building, something moving and pausing to start up the fire escape, and oh…Daichi could cry then and there.

       He doesn’t take his eyes off the patrol as they pull the fire escape ladder up and secure it in place until the next patrol leaves. He doesn’t look away as he hauls himself over the partition and drops down onto the top platform, or when he stomps down step after step after step, boots clunking aggressively -- _impatiently_  -- on the rusted steel.

       He meets Suga halfway and gathers him up into his arms with a heavy, tremulous, “Hello.” Suga smiles and tucks his shaking arms around his neck.

       “Sorry if we’re late. It’s hard to see in this weather.”

       Daichi doesn’t even care if he’s not _quite_  close enough to the first years for physical contact to this degree: he releases Suga briefly to hug them anyway. “I’m so sorry I sent you out today. I didn’t know it would storm. I’ll be more careful next time,” he assures, and he’s moving to embrace Sugawara again when he realizes how bulky their bags are.

       It takes about a zeptosecond to understand. When the shock crosses his face, Suga grins sheepishly. “We, uh, went to the hardware store. I asked Kei for directions. I thought the rest of the team needed better winter gear, and I guess I was right…” He gestures to the snow that swirls around them.

       It was a good decision. He can’t argue with that. A responsible one. He kisses Suga’s cheeks and takes a bag from each member of the patrol before leading them back up to the roof. Tanaka lowers a portion of the rope ladder down to them so they can climb the last metre or so, since jumping with the burden of the supplies is too much.

       Daichi goes up first and helps him hold it for the rest.

       “So,” Suga says, in the supply tent while everyone sets bags down and starts putting things in their places, “we got everything you wanted, except water, since that would have been pointless now. There wasn’t any at the drug store, anyway. And there should be enough new boots for everyone who needs a pair, and coats, too. Oh, and gloves.” Even though they’ve only been using the gloves they have for about two months, it’s been two months of constant use and they’re very worn by now. Daichi readily accepts the backpacks filled with winter gear.

       “Ryuu, can you go tell everyone to come to the supply tent, please?” he asks as he flicks on a couple of the old plastic lanterns hung from the tent poles.

       “Yup!” Tanaka forces the tent door open against the defiant gale and is immediately swallowed up by the sheer amount of snow pelting the roof. Daichi finds himself worrying a bit as he watches him go.

       But then, by the time he’s laid out the winter gear on the cement by the entrance, the rest of the team is hurrying inside, hunched and red-nosed, hair full of snow.

       “The patrol brought presents,” Daichi tells them, smiling as he points to the gear. Hinata, for one, looks as happy as when Kageyama used to toss to him on the court. “Warm clothes. Find what fits. You’ll need it in this weather.”

       He feels more like a parent than a captain while his team chatters excitedly, tumbling around each other and laughing and _happy_.

 

*

 

       Somewhere between the day they first met and the end of the world, Sugawara became a requirement in Daichi’s life. In the fierce cold of a sudden winter, he's like warmth. Hell, he _is_  warmth, on a night like this. And it’s terrifying, to know that someone can impact him that greatly, but if it’s Suga then he has nothing to complain about.

       “Did you have any problems with zombies today?” He’d really rather not know, honestly, just how much he endangered Suga’s life, but at the same time he’s desperate to know.

       Suga rolls over to face him. But he doesn’t speak. He just stares. Daichi doesn’t like the cold feeling in his abdomen.

       “Koushi…”

       “I made Tadashi kill two. He didn’t want to. I told him he had to. He didn’t let go of Kei’s hand the whole way home.” He bites his lip and averts his gaze to the trembling roof of the tent. The flashlight has begun to flicker again. Daichi remembers that they need batteries. There must be some at the drug store, surely…

       “We didn’t even realize they were in the hardware store until one of them knocked over an empty shelving unit to go after Kei. I didn’t even think to check. It’s like…somehow, living up here, like this, they’ve become the least of my concerns. Survival tools seem so much more important lately.”

Daichi snatches up his hand and presses his lips to his palm. “They are. That’s just it. Zombies are nothing more than a minor inconvenience when you think about it. They’re just something we have to work around while we survive.” If they weren’t so dangerous, that would be true, but even then, holed up in a tent in the middle of a snowstorm, he can almost believe it. He needs Suga to believe it, at the very least. Suga and the rest of the team.

“I just feel bad because Tadashi hates them so much. I mean, I helped – I held one down for him, but he asked me to do it instead and I told him no and…I am a terrible person,” he mutters, turning forlorn eyes on Daichi.

That coldness flares up into an intense heat and Daichi sits up quickly, tugging Suga up with him. “ _Koushi_. Do not. Don’t say stuff like that. You know what you did today? You truly helped Tadashi. He needs help becoming stronger and you did what the situation called for. You’re aiding him to the best of your ability, even though it makes you feel like shit. That makes you an incredible person.”

Suga continues to gnaw on his lip in lieu of responding to him. Daichi wishes there was a more appropriate way to phrase, “I adore you above all things in this world and you are so fucking important to me and you’re the only damn thing that keeps me sane lately, and the whole fucking team probably feels the same.” Of course, there isn’t, and those are the exact words that tumble from his lips as he rubs his thumb over the beauty mark by Suga's eye.

Suga eases himself onto his lap, winding his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his shoulder. “I love you,” he sighs, trying to hold him tighter than he already is, and Daichi, in turn, clings desperately to him.

“One day, the world is going to be right again, and we won’t have to worry about these things anymore.” One day, the world is going to be right again, and he’s going to marry Suga. He doesn’t care what it takes. He tilts Suga’s head back and kisses him firmly. “I love you so much.”

Requiring another human being for the sake of his sanity and his ability to function is certainly scary as hell. He’ll not forget that anytime soon. But he’ll continue to lean on Suga when he needs to, and let Suga do the same to him, and when everything is set as right as it can be for the day, he’ll continue to hold him and steal warmth and blankets and kisses and precious, precious time. Because time is a delicate thing, he thinks; time is what never stops giving and taking, and the past half year has taught him that time can be limited for the unlucky.

Sawamura Daichi is very, very lucky for someone in his predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SHORT BECAUSE OF REASONS  
> THOSE REASONS BEING AS FOLLOWS: SOME MAJOR SHIT GOES DOWN IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. EVERYBODY CLENCH YOUR ASSCHEEKS TOGETHER AND PREPARE FOR TRUE PANIC.  
> Or not.  
> Depends how easily agitated you are, I suppose.  
> No but like seriously I am so sincerely sorry about chapter four, whenever I post it, and am ready and willing to accept punches to the gut, arm, leg, chest, and shoulder. Just not my face, because I'm recovering from some shit and it's tender, okay? Thank you.  
> À bientôt!!! uwu


	4. Dilatancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a good reason zombies are viewed as dangerous. There's also a good reason Daichi worries so incessantly for Suga's safety (hint: it's their selflessness and consequent recklessness).  
> Hinata, on the other hand, is just reckless, so the whole team worries about him.

       Suga lacks the hesitation that formerly made Daichi worry for his safety. He grimaces at the awful sucking-squelching of a blade being removed from a skull, at the sight of Suga wiping gore from it with a filthy rag. It’s too violent a scenario for someone he views as an angel.

       Just a few months ago, Suga would have looked lost and frightened to have to do something so cruel as kill another being, and he always _did_. Daichi hadn’t been much better off himself, but he’d talked Suga through it on several occasions. He’d ask him to take the knife afterwards, to get away from the body, even though it had been a hazard to their lives.

       But here, killing it is casual, almost habitual, and if there is one change that Daichi truly despises it is change in Suga. They all might have remained innocent to some extent had the dead not risen to hunt them, yet the universe is warped in such a way that now Suga, darling, fretful Suga, is hunting back without second thought.

       It’s what they have to do, he reminds himself as he takes a deep breath and makes to continue perimeter patrol. Suga falls into step beside him, Asahi not far behind. “C’mon, Asahi, there’s another across the street. You need to practice defending yourself,” he points out, placing a hand on his arm and nodding toward where a zombie shuffles haphazardly away from a storefront.

       Daichi would prefer it if he didn’t act so nonchalantly about something he used to hate.

       “Nah, leave it. It hasn’t even noticed us.” He waves a hand dismissively. Suga gives him an incredulous look.

       “You’re usually adamant about us killing every one we see. Is something wrong?”

       Why yes, something is very wrong, thank you very much. I don’t want a knife in your hands, for starters. He shakes his head and rubs at his cheek. “Nothing, nothing. I just don’t want you guys going out of the way for one zombie, y’know? You should do it, Asahi. We’ll be right behind you. I’ll even hold it for you if you want.”

       Asahi looks to Suga for confirmation that Daichi isn’t just fucking with him, because such a display of kindness from his captain is something he has yet to become accustomed to, even after several months spent working and living together. Suga, on the other hand, understands Daichi’s intentions completely, and simply smiles and shrugs.

       He needs Asahi to be stronger. Needs him to be capable. More than that, he needs to make sure he helps him become stronger in as gentle a way as possible. It took the better part of a year, but Daichi finally has a grasp on the concept of each team member having individual needs and their own pace with things. With Suga by his side, he’s watched Yamaguchi learn to fight for himself, stand taller, work harder, and even protect his teammates.

       The same has worked exceptionally well with Hinata, who now begs to go on patrols. But Suga, for some unfathomable reason, has asked that Daichi work to help Asahi get over his fear of the monsters (something about “improving relationships” and “being closer friends”, which is stupid because they’re perfectly close as it is).

       Asahi’s face twists at the thought of crossing the street and actually killing the beast. Understandably so; they stink, they’re hideous, they’re dangerous, and more than any of that, they’re scary as fuck. But Suga and Daichi each place a hand on his shoulder and start to guide him towards it, Suga slipping a knife into his grasp. It’s sure as hell noticed them now, teeth clacking and bones cracking as it changes direction to gaze dumbly at them.

       And then it hisses – wet and uneven and revolting – raises arms that are mostly bone and worms as it tumbles forward, jaw falling open and slamming closed fervently. It looks frail, to be honest. If it weren’t for the decaying flesh or missing hand or the bits of skin between its bloody teeth, it might have just been a fragile, starving human being. Or a dying one. But now, as it is, it’s indistinguishable from the rest of the creatures like itself. Had he known it before it became this, Daichi surely wouldn’t recognize it anymore.

       He hears Suga’s breath catch, feels Asahi tense, and above all he _sees_  more hands scrabbling at the barren doorway and empty windowpane. His heart drops, and he supposes the next time he sees it will probably be in hell, given the rapidity and abruptness of the fall. Just as the hissing increases in volume, Suga shoves both him and Asahi back the few metres to the apartment building. He doesn’t stop ushering them back until they’ve broken out into a sprint. Daichi makes the mistake of looking over his shoulder at the zombies scrambling after them. There’s at least a dozen; a small horde, but a horde nonetheless. His experiences with hordes have been few and far between, and only once has he encountered one while on the ground.

       As a team, they’d escaped. It had been barely a day before they’d found the roof to stay on, and thank god they did, since the next month was filled with the passage of several more hordes through the streets around them. But someone – someone who isn’t them – has been picking them off, and Daichi hasn’t seen one since mid-autumn.

       He reaches behind himself and latches onto Suga’s hand as they round the corner and fly towards the fire escape ladder. They are so, so fucked.

       Asahi reaches the ladder first; the moment his hands hit the metal, he’s climbing, glancing back to ensure that his friends are with him still. Daichi makes to push Suga up after him, but Suga has the same idea and shoves him against the ladder, whispering a strained, “Go, go!”

       He listens, as he climbs as fast as his shaking legs will allow him, to the full-out screeching that floods the alley. Suga’s behind him, _behind_  him with them so close and he almost can’t breathe for the unadulterated terror that rattles his entire being. He told him that they’re just a nuisance, like insects, but in this predicament they are a million times worse than mere insects.

       His first instinct upon flinging himself onto the bottom platform is to turn and haul Suga up beside him. The second he has him safely with him, he helps Asahi lift and secure the ladder. They stop to stare down at the congregation of zombies on the pavement below them, and Daichi cannot fucking stop shaking. Border patrol is officially done for the day. He’ll leave Tanaka and Hinata to shoot down anything that threatens their safety, and let himself and his friends recover from that absolute bullshit.

       “Up,” he says, gesturing to the stairs and trying to keep an authoritative tone in his voice. Suga nods, puts a reassuring hand on Asahi’s forearm, and helps him up them. God, he needs to stop being so stupidly kind to everyone all the time. Daichi presses his own hand gently to his back as he follows him. “You guys okay?”

       “I’m fine,” Suga responds automatically. Asahi just nods slowly, frowning a bit, but it’s enough for Daichi for now.

       “Good. I’m glad. You’re both excused from any duties for the rest of the day.”

       They’re almost to the top – Yamaguchi’s run to get the rope ladder situated – when Suga finally looks to him and asks, “Are _you_  okay?”

       Given the nature of what just happened, absolutely not. It was, all things considered, a near-death experience. But he’s _not_  dead, and lately that’s all it takes to qualify as okay. He smiles. “Fine; I’m perfectly fine.” After all, what kind of captain shows fear in front of his teammates? Certainly not a good one.

       “’Not dead’ doesn’t mean fine, Daichi. I’m scared too, you know.” Dammit, dammit, _dammit_ , Suga really needs to not do that thing where he's in his head like that.

       Withdrawing his hand from Suga's back as he stops and turns to face him, he grimaces and looks away. “You said you were fine. We can’t talk about this out here. Wait until we’re on the roof.”

       Suga sighs and grabs his sleeve, holding tightly onto him as they finish the trek up the stairs. Daichi feels bad about upsetting him, which he appears to have done, and feels worse about having put his life in danger.

       He makes sure Suga isn’t last to climb the ladder this time. Once Asahi reaches the top, he taps his shoulder carefully so as not to startle him, but he's too preoccupied with leaning over the railing and watching the zombies far below to react. “Koushi? You need to go to the roof.”

       “They’re pulling at the fencing, Daichi.” Suga steps aside and points downward, fixing him with a frightened look. “They’re trying to get inside.”

       And they are. Daichi wishes that he hadn’t looked as soon as he does, but it’s done and the zombies on the ground are definitely making some sort of effort to get the pieces of fencing off the ground floor windows. He closes his eyes and sighs. “Tanaka will take care of it. Don’t worry. And once there aren’t enough to be a threat, we’ll send a patrol down to take care of the rest.” Which is ridiculous, because even a single zombie is a threat. Neither of them say anything about this; Suga just hurries over to the ladder and onto the roof, then helps Daichi up once he’s at the edge of the partition.

       He waves Asahi off once he’s on his feet. “Go to your tent before you faint or something.”

       There’s nothing he’d like more right now than to stay by Suga, but duty calls and he rests their cheeks together to speak quietly into their ear. “You, too. I’ll be right there.”

       Every single action of Suga’s screams reluctance, but with a few careful kisses to his lips and an extra couple seconds of holding the front of his shirt, he steps away and scurries back to their tent. Daichi sighs, places a hand over his own heart and wills it to calm the fuck down, and calls Tanaka over from where he’s conversing boisterously with the other second years over lunch. He sets down the crinkled water bottle in his hand and bows out of their chat, darting obediently to Daichi’s side.

       “Yeah, Daichi?”

       “There was a horde while we were on perimeter patrol. It’s at the bottom of the fire escape now. Think you and Hinata can take them out for us?”

       He watches Tanaka’s face fall from eager child to livid adult. “Zombie bastards, after my teammates. No one’s hurt, right?”

       “Ahh, no, no. We’re all fine. Asahi’s a bit spooked, from what I can tell, but I wouldn’t expect any less after an experience like that.” He smiles as well as he can and waves his hand in the air. “Anyway, there’s only about fifteen, so it shouldn’t be much of a problem. Just tell me if you run out of arrows or anything.”

       “Will do.” Tanaka nods and takes off in search of Hinata and their crossbows.

       Daichi, on the other hand, meanders over to his tent and does his best to ignore that cacophony from the alley. He’s barely begun to push the tent flap aside when Suga snatches him by his hands and pulls him down into the tent. He’s pretty sure, in that moment, that Suga genuinely means to suffocate him, with how tightly he's hugging him.

       “Hey, hey, don’t kill me,” he teases, fighting his arms free of Suga's grip and hugging him back. “What’s wrong?” Almost dying aside, of course. He wouldn’t be surprised if Suga actually died and his last words were inquiring as to the well-being of the rest of the team, so as far as Daichi is concerned, himself experiencing that shouldn’t be the problem.

       He’s right. Suga hides his face in his shirt and clutches so desperately at him that Daichi worries there might be something seriously wrong. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again. Please don’t ever die. Please.”

       At least they’re on the same page here. He shifts them into a more comfortable position on the pile of blankets. “The same goes for you. I actually thought you were gonna…for a minute, I thought you might die, and I never, ever want to experience that again.” Suga is more important than words can even begin to describe.

       He can’t _exist_  without him.

       He knows they need to go back out to their team as soon as possible, but just holding Suga is a much better place to be than out in the snow and cold and danger that awaits them.

It takes a while longer, and Tanaka’s overly enthusiastic, “Target practice, my dear friend!” as he and Hinata patter past the tent, but eventually Daichi lets go long enough to link their pinkies and smile at Suga.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

       Once they’re both on their feet, they head back out into the camp to send everyone to their own tents until the threat has subsided. Kageyama and Ennoshita aren’t exactly eager to hide away, so the four of them stand at the edge of the roof by their expert snipers (they wish they were) and watch them fire arrow after arrow straight down into the writhing amalgamation of walking dead. Maybe he won't even need to bother sending people down for short-range fighting. They seem to have things fairly well under control here.

       “Ah, shit, I missed again. Sorry.” Hinata loads another arrow onto his crossbow with a guilty look at Tanaka.

       “Nah, it’s fine,” Tanaka chuckles, patting him on the back. “We’ve got plenty of ammo here, so--”

       “It’s not that hard to aim. No wonder you couldn’t spike well on your own,” Kageyama mutters. He rests his chin on his hand as he peers over the wall, and Daichi is reminded that they’re all just a bunch of complete assholes trying to survive the apocalypse together.

       But of course, an argument isn’t abnormal for these two, so he may as well let it run its course. “Hey, screw you! I can spike just fine on my own,” Hinata hisses while he takes careful aim at a zombie that’s broken off from the group to wander a bit further along the wall. There’s only 6 or 7 left now. The arrow catches it through the shoulder and it stumbles a bit before growling and beating bent fingers at the rusted fencing.

       “That just proves my point.”

       “I’ll shoot you next.”

       “You’d miss.”

       “Would not!”

       “Would, too!”

       “No, I _wouldn’t_!”

       “Yes, you would!”

       When Hinata turns on his heel with the loaded crossbow still clutched in his hands, Tanaka makes to stop them, but Daichi reacts first. “Okay! Argue all you want, but not with weapons! Jesus!” He places his hands over Hinata’s and points the arrow tip away from the rest of them. “One of you is going to get hurt.”

       Hinata scrunches up his nose and glares at Kageyama, and Kageyama glares right back. That is, until Hinata sticks his tongue out at him and returns to his previous task. Kageyama exhales sharply through his nose and returns to observing. Daichi looks briefly to the sky for assistance.

       They’re raising children, here. Too often he forgets this. Behind him, Suga laughs lightly and places a hand on his shoulder. “I think they’ll be fine for now. We should get food to everyone.”

       That’s a fair point. Tanaka has the leadership skill required to contain the idiots, and Ennoshita’s right there to back him up. He looks to the sky. “It _is_ about noon.” Much too early to have returned from patrol. Oh, that’s right. They were supposed to actually go out today and get supplies after perimeter patrol.

       Sighing, he takes Suga’s hand and leads him to the supply tent. If everyone needs to eat and it’s colder than Oikawa’s heart today, hot soup should help. Should. He’s not well-versed in meal planning yet, since he usually leaves it up to the group or Suga to decide what they’ll be eating when it’s not snacks or a very small meal.

       But, no, Suga agrees with him before he even speaks, crouching down by the canned goods and squinting at them. “Hmm. Miso or ton-jiru? We have a lot of both. I think we should save the kenchinjiru for as long as possible in case we run low on food, since it’s so filling.”

       “Eh, we can probably just take both around and let everyone take what they want, if there’s plenty of each,” Daichi suggests, picking up a soup can to examine it. Canned goods are meant to last, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t worried they’re not good after so many months of sitting in vending machines and on store shelves.

       “Duh.” Suga smacks his forehead with the heel of his hand and laughs. “I didn’t even think of that.”

  
  


       “Miso or ton-jiru?” Daichi asks Asahi when he opens the tent door. Asahi, in turn, motions for him to be quiet.

        Behind him Noya is curled up under several blankets in the middle of the tent, frowning in his sleep. Daichi would find this far more worrying if it wasn’t his usual resting expression lately. “It’s a good thing we have all those painkillers now. He had a really bad headache just after breakfast and I made him take some. When I came back he was asleep.”

        So Asahi hasn’t really had anyone to calm him down since they came back from patrol. He should be able to calm himself, really, but then -- Daichi relied on Suga for that earlier. It would be hypocritical of him to expect Asahi to care for his own mental health when everyone else has someone to turn to. He smiles and punches him playfully on the shoulder.

       “I’ll send Suga by once everyone’s fed. Now, soup?” He shakes one of the cans to catch his attention again.

       “Oh, right, right. Ton-jiru, please. Yuu likes that, too.” There’s audible relief in Asahi’s tone, like he’d been worried Suga wouldn’t come comfort him after a scare like that. Daichi knows already that Suga would’ve stopped to see him even if the building was collapsing beneath them.

       He rolls his eyes and hands him two cans of ton-jiru. “Are you sure Yuu’s okay?” he asks before he leaves. They know the headaches are from stress (none of them say it aloud, of course, but each of the third years have had similar experiences with migraines and the stress of school) but with the intensity and frequency of them he finds himself worrying for his teammate. “He looks like he’s in a lot of pain.”

       Maaaybe not the best way to breach the subject with Asahi, but damn it; Noya’s eyebrows are drawn down steeply enough that he looks ready to cry. In fact, it looks like he may be having a nightmare on top of the headache. Asahi sends him a distressed look before reaching back up to grasp the door zipper. “Send Suga for him. I’m fine.”

       He’s lying, obviously. It’ll take a good ten to twenty hugs from Suga and a few hours of talking to get over almost dying. He lets Asahi close the tent and shuffles away through the snow to tend to the second years.

       “Hey, Koushi. You were going to talk to Asahi after, right?” he inquires when he runs into Suga outside of Narita and Kinoshita’s tent.

       “Of course. Why?”

       Daichi waits until he's given soup to the tent’s occupants before he explains. “Just making sure. You’ve already dealt with my shit so I wanted to make sure that you saw to him, too.” God, that’s kind of embarrassing to admit. His concern for his friend shouldn’t be something to shy away from. “And, uh, Yuu has a migraine again. I think he was also having a nightmare when I--”

       Whatever cans Suga was carrying land in Daichi’s arms and they stumble past him on their way to Asahi and Nishinoya. “I’m going!”

       Well, fuck, okay; Suga knows something he doesn’t if he's that frantic about getting to Noya. He hauls all the stupid soup that’s leftover to the morons by the half-wall, interrupting a conversation about ‘maybe just letting Kageyama try’ and ‘no, he needs practice’ to let them have their pick of food. “How many left?”

       “Just one. Then we’ll go get the arrows.” Hinata leans as far over the wall as he can without falling and takes judicious aim. There’s a snap as he launches the arrow and a distant _thunk_ as it pierces straight through the skull of the last wandering zombie.

       He gasps, leans further, stands up, then leans over again. “I hit it. I hit it! I killed it!” Setting the crossbow on the roof, he spins to face Kageyama and raises both hands into the air, grinning ecstatically.

       Kageyama smirks and high-fives him. “Nice,” he decides, leaning against the wall to look down at the bodies below.

       “Hell _yeah_! Congrats, Shou!” Tanaka ruffles his hair and laughs, hoisting his own empty crossbow onto his shoulder. “Let’s go get those arrows out of their heads!” He bustles off with Ennoshita in tow and an exuberant whoop as he pauses to leap into the air.

       Daichi would say something about attracting hordes if they hadn’t just rid themselves of the nearest one.

       He waits for them to all drag out the rope ladder and Tanaka and Hinata to scramble down the fire escape before putting the last of the soup away and creeping over to Asahi and Noya’s tent, crouching down just outside to listen. Eavesdropping should be above him, but he’s rather curious as to what Suga has to say to Asahi.

      ...Which is apparently a conversation over and done with, since they’re both speaking softly to Noya. He hears a bit of muffled sniffling during their conversation, but focuses more on Suga’s soothing voice carrying through the fabric.

       “Not up here. We’re fine up here. They won’t get hurt on the roof, and you can always go to the ground with them and protect them. And us third years will take care of everyone with you.”

       “That’s…” Nishinoya hiccoughs and makes a frustrated noise. “It’s you guys, too. All of you. Everyone. I should be able to help but I can’t do anything.”

       Nishinoya’s actually bawling, leaving Daichi utterly taken aback as Suga shushes him gently. “It’s only a dream. We’re all fine, right? It’s only in your head, and only for a little while when you’re dreaming,” he murmurs.

       “We’re not going anywhere anytime soon,” Asahi promises, and Noya breathes deeply. A moment of silence follows, then:

       “Sorry for getting your shirt wet, Asahi…”

       “Fine, it’s fine.”

       “Did you want to sleep again?”

       “No, no, I’ll eat now. Thank you for coming to see me, Suga.”

       “It’s the least I can do, what with you being so important to the team’s morale,” he chirps. Noya laughs quietly then, and Suga joins in momentarily. “Now make sure you eat all of that. I know nightmares can ruin appetites but you need to take care of yourself in order to take care of your friends.”

       “Aye, aye, captai -- er, vice-captain!”

       This draws another fit of laughter from all three of them, followed by Suga’s farewell and, “If you need to talk again, either of you, I’ll definitely be around.”

       Daichi watches him come out of the tent and straighten up, watches him wipe the weary look from his face and replace it with a smile, watches him jump back a few centimetres when he notices him and place a hand over his heart. “Daichi!”

       He smiles and waves, still crouching in the snow. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

       All he really wants out of life sometimes is to hug Suga and never let go. That’s illogical, clearly, since they can’t move around easily that way. Still, it’s nice to think about constantly and eternally holding onto Suga and protecting him from everything bad in the world rather than ephemerally and with the knowledge that bad things are always bearing down on them. Realistically, he has the option of hugging Suga whenever opportunity strikes. Opportunity just kicked his door down.

       He gets back to his feet and snatches Suga up in his arms, curling his fingers into his hair and holding him as close as he can manage. “You’re the best,” he sighs against his shoulder.

      “Slanderous lies. You’re way better.” Suga hugs him back just as tightly and starts swaying slightly, taking Daichi with him. If they had music to play, Daichi imagines they could dance, as they used to do in Suga’s room some weekends. They’d play whatever song Suga had heard on the radio that week that he took a liking to and try to keep up with it, twirling and dipping and stepping on each other toes and making it up as they went along.

      And laughing. Freely laughing. Laughter now is weighed down by the looming threat of death and it’s harbinger, _walking_ death.

      He wants those weekends back. He wants that music and those dances back. Now he just has hugging and swaying back and forth on a roof mid-winter and damn, his ears are cold. And his nose and cheeks and legs and everything, really, even with Suga pressed against him like this.

      Being so close to the tent still, he finds himself eavesdropping again. He’s not sure whether the conversation has become more or less private in Suga’s absence.

       “Here, take another. Crying doesn’t help headaches,” Asahi rumbles.

       “Thank, Asahi.” At least Noya sounds like he’s smiling a bit now. Daichi can understand all too well the pressure of maintaining hope within the team. As a former libero, Nishinoya must feel obligated to keep up his old job of encouraging everyone and keeping them optimistic.

       “I’ll leave them by your pillow, okay?”

       “Okay….Asahi?”

       “Yeah?”

       “Daichi,” Suga says under his breath, turning to press a kiss to his cheek. He's still rocking a bit, whether for warmth or comfort Daichi isn’t sure, but he squeezes him briefly and hums. “I think we should go to our own tent.”

       They should, but he’s curious as to what Noya has to say. He’s captain; he should know what’s going on with everyone at all times. But Suga steps back and tugs him by his hand toward their tent.

       They both freeze in place when they hear Kageyama shout from the other side of the roof. Daichi’s genuinely afraid to know what has him panicked enough to sound like that. He’s afraid, but he still turns on his heel and books it to the top of the fire escape where Kageyama is flinging himself down onto the platform with a clattering of the thin steel.

       “ _Shouyou_!” His feet pound down the steps; Daichi makes to follow him but Suga beats him to it, demanding that Daichi stay put as he starts down the stairs after Kageyama.

       He can’t see that anything’s wrong, necessarily, just that Tanaka is kneeling on a zombie’s chest with an arrow rammed firmly through its eye. Hinata must be at the bottom of the fire escape already.

       They all _know_ what happens when they get bit. Sci-fi films told the tale well. Daichi keeps himself upright and calm, and Ennoshita watches him like whatever he does is the answer to a question Daichi isn’t sure of yet. If he panics, his team panics.

       If Hinata was bitten, he has to keep his cool. If Hinata was bitten, he makes the call. What the fuck does he do if Hinata is dying?

       He looks back at Ennoshita and smiles tautly. “Did you see what happened?”

       “Yeah, uh...they were retrieving the arrows and one of the zombies wasn’t...dead? It wasn’t quite dead and grabbed Shouyou and I’m not really sure what happened after that. I think Ryuu got it in time.” He frowns deeply as he peers over the edge of the wall.

       He hopes Ryuu got it in time, that is. Daichi hopes so, too.

       They listen to the faint commotion near the ground; Suga’s voice, unintelligible but heavy with concern, Kageyama spouting insults and profanity and Hinata apologizing. Daichi’s heart can’t handle this. He’s about to hop off the roof himself when he hears footsteps on their way back up and waits with anticipation and plenty of dread.

       “You dumbass, you fucking...you’re supposed to be more careful. You can’t just let your guard down like that,” Kageyama growls as they ascend the stairs. When they come into view, Suga has Hinata’s arm in his hands and is supporting him, and Hinata looks more dazed than frightened. All of Suga’s conditioning has paid off, apparently.

       But Kageyama has tears in his eyes and his hand clutches the back of Hinata’s shirt like he’s a frightened child trailing after his mother. Tanaka is directly behind with a makeshift quiver loaded with arrows and a frustrated expression.

       “Did he get bit?” Daichi asks as Suga helps Hinata onto the ladder.

       Suga shakes his head and says something in Hinata’s ear as he steadies him. Thank. Fucking. God. Daichi releases a stuttering breath, reaching down to take Hinata’s hand once he’s close enough.

       Tanaka shoulders the rattling quiver and scoffs. “As though I’d let a zombie hurt Shou.”

       “It’s a good thing you were there, Ryuunosuke.” Suga doesn’t even have to guide Kageyama up the ladder; he’s not leaving any distance between himself and Hinata. As such, Daichi is reaching for him the moment he lets go of Hinata.

       “I didn’t even notice it was moving until it was trying to bite me,” Hinata murmurs sheepishly, rubbing his shoulder.

       “That’s why you need to pay attention, stupid,” Kageyama snaps, and he’s pouting quite a lot more than usual.

       It’s been such a day. Daichi wouldn’t mind laying down in his tent for the rest of the afternoon, really, but now he has these two to deal with. He goes to help Tanaka up and Ennoshita reaches out first, squeezing his friend’s hand as he pulls him onto the partition.

       Is ‘friend’ even the right word? It’s getting harder and harder to keep track of everything happening amongst the team members as of late. It shouldn’t be, since there’s only twelve of them, yet here he is not knowing what Tanaka and Ennoshita’s relationship even _is_ anymore.

       Suga’s presence is a welcome relief from his thoughts. Daichi hugs him quickly once he's on his feet, still dead-set on spending as much time as possible in direct contact with him. But first years need to be dealt with, he knows, and Suga will surely be with them for some time, so he purses his lips when he lets go.

       “Shouyou, Tobio’s right. You need to be careful out there. Recklessness could get you killed,” he reprimands as gently as he can, watching the way Kageyama’s hand flies to grasp Hinata’s shirt again. He smiles. “It’s only the truth. Please don’t endanger yourselves. Now we probably won’t be doing much of anything today, so everyone’s staying in their tents. I’d advise you do the same.” With a meaningful look to Suga, he bows quickly and hurries off to the supply tent with the second years on his heels.

       “Need help with anything?” Tanaka asks. He wrestles the quiver off and starts putting the arrows back with the crossbows.

       Help getting his life together would be nice. As usual, only Suga can provide assistance with that. He shakes his head and steps around the camp stove to find the pens and paper. “Nope. But thank you. You can go to your tent, too, if you want. Rest up a bit. I’ll be sending out two patrols tomorrow and stationing two guards from now on, so you’ll need it.” He’s been a bit careless with the part of the roof facing the fields. Hordes can come from anywhere, but he doesn’t really expect much activity in that direction. As a precaution after an incident like that, he’ll keep a second guard there for a week or so.

       Ennoshita drops the rope ladder by the entrance and kicks the snow they trailed in back outside. “I’m on guard right now, actually, aren’t I? I’ll get back out there and do that.”

       “It’s fine. I can do it.” It’s not like he’d be spending the time with Suga otherwise. One look outside tells him that much, as he sees Suga going into Kageyama and Hinata’s tent with them. He sighs lightly and flicks the switch on lantern. Nothing happens. This is why he’s trying to make a list for his patrols, for fuck’s sake. Taking the lantern from another corner, he sets the paper down on the flat cover of the camp stove.

       “No, no, I’m okay to do it, really,” Ennoshita assures. “I’m not feeling too tired lately, and since you’re the captain, you should definitely keep yourself in good condition to take care of everyone.”

       Daichi looks up from his list to offer a relieved smile. “Alright. Thank you.”

  
  


       A whole hour he spends alone in the tent. He eats his lunch (not distracting enough) then sits and stares at the door. He tries reading one of the few books they’ve salvaged for the sake of alleviating boredom, but after reading the same sentence no less than fifteen times and spending each individual letter wishing for Suga’s presence in some way, shape, or form, he gives up and lays back on the bed to wait.

       Hinata looked death in the eye today. Understandable that he should need an excess of reassurances to calm his nerves, especially since he’s still working on getting over his fear of zombies. Extra time will be required to ensure that no nightmares plague him tonight, something Suga is especially thorough with.

       They’ll make an appearance anyway. It’s not as though they _live_ in a nightmare or anything.

       Kageyama, on the other hand, endured the fright of almost losing his sunshine, something Daichi sympathizes with well. This morning was too close a call. Knowing how Kageyama must feel, he can’t bring himself to be upset at how long Suga is with them.

       But he really, desperately needs a distraction because even knowing that his team is whole and Suga is safe, he keeps imagining what might have happened if they’d been just a bit slower, if someone had tripped, if they hadn’t reacted in time to save themselves, with Suga behind him, and his throat constricts agonizingly. He doesn’t want to fucking think about that.

       He’d die just contemplating Suga’s death.

       So he finally growls with frustration, hauls himself to his feet, and stomps off to melt some snow for a shower.

       Naturally, showers -- even in the most furious cold he thinks he’s ever suffered through -- leave too much room for thought. It takes scrubbing himself everywhere four times, realizing that this was stupid idea and he’s going to get frostbite, and the water in the camp shower running out before he gives up and shaves instead. He hadn’t even noticed how bad his stubble was getting. One look in the greasy handheld mirror leaves him groaning and melting more water even if it means putting up with the cold again.

        _Just_ as he’s walking back to the tent, wrapping his scarf hurriedly back around his neck and shoulders, he runs into Suga and his deplorable state of mind shatters with a final, appeased sigh.

       “Oh, hey.” Suga waves a bit before ducking in to hug him. “Ah; you smell nice.”

       “Just showered,” he explains as he hugs him back fiercely. He strongly advises against showering in this weather, but Suga probably has the common sense not to pull a dumbass move like that.

       “And you shaved,” he adds, running a thumb along his now-smooth jaw. It’s almost astonishing that Suga doesn’t have stubble as badly as he did. Daichi supposes he shaves in the morning when he takes his sweet time dragging his own ass out of bed. “But you must be so cold.”

       “I am very cold.” And he’s not even kidding. It’s infuriatingly difficult to dry off with the itty bitty shitty towels they have stored around, and it’s hardly any help that a lot of them are tattered and worn. Just like everything else in the stupid world lately.

       So now his hair is slowly but surely freezing on his forehead and the back of his neck and all the water on his skin that he missed is indecisive about remaining liquid or joining its brethren in giving him hypothermia. Even under his coat. Suga takes his hand and guides him into the tent, following closely behind and zipping it up right away.

       Suga tugs his scarf, coat, and boots off, leaving him in jeans and a hoodie, then drapes blankets over his head and shoulders, tucking and fluffing and laughing when Daichi pouts from under a crown of green and white fabric. “Why are you making a Tobio face?”

       “You’re babying me,” he complains, hiding the lower half of his face in the blankets to conceal his smile.

       Suga laughs again and toes his own boots off, opening the door fleetingly to place both pairs outside. “It’s what I live for, didn’t you know? Kissing boo-boos and treating my boyfriend like the baby he is.”

       Sitting upright again, Daichi gasps and clicks his tongue. “So cruel, Suga.”

       “Koushi.”

       “Sugaaaaa.”

       “It’s been months, don’t do that.” He pauses in removing his own coat to swat him lightly through the thick layer of blankets. Daichi still feels a bit chilly even under all of that.

       He opens his arms and sweeps the blankets in his lap out of the way to make room. “ _Koushi_ , get under here. I’m dying of hypothermia.”

       Like he even needs the invitation. Suga's in his lap before he finishes speaking, curling up and re-situating the blanket-cloak. “You’re not dying. I won’t let you.”

       “Feels like it,” he mutters, pressing his frozen nose to the back of Suga's neck and making him gasp indignantly and attempt to swat him again despite the awkward angle.

       Suga nestles under the covers and sighs contentedly. “As I said, you’re being a baby.”

       In lieu of a response, Daichi kisses his cheek, wrapping his arms around him and leaning against him. Suga supports him without issue, smiling as he closes his eyes and shifts a bit to accommodate his weight.

       He almost falls asleep like that. Almost is such a disheartening word. He’d very much like to just sleep right now. But Suga decides that the rest of the team needs to be monitored meticulously and once he's come to the conclusion that Daichi is plenty warm, he drags him back outside to make rounds.

       Everyone’s fine, of course, and most brighten substantially at the sight of Suga when they open their tents. Daichi asks how they’re doing and if they need anything, and especially if they need something to make them warmer since the temperature is dropping quickly. It’s good that he showered when he did.

       Dinner is going to be an after-sunset affair today. The sun is already taking off for the night, anyway, dipping rapidly down toward the horizon and dragging icy darkness in behind itself.

       They loop back around after seeing to the first years to visit Asahi again, this time with a very alert and energetic Noya hanging off his shoulders and laughing at something. Asahi holds a pen and piece of scrap paper in his hands and laughs with him.

       “Hi, Suga! Hey, Daichi! What’s up?” Noya asks, reaching down to pluck the pen from Asahi’s grasp. He stretches his arm a bit to draw shakily on the paper beside the strange blob Asahi left there.

       Suga shrugs. “Just finished checking up on the first years. What are you guys doing?”

       “Pictionary. Asahi is a terrible artist. It's a good thing you're awesome at volleyball,” Nishinoya says offhandedly, making Asahi laugh all the more as he watches the pen’s movements.

       “Mind if we join?” Daichi kicks off his boots, closes the tent door, and sits cross-legged in front of them.

       Noya pauses in his work. “If you can draw, then please.”

       “It’s a frog!”

       “No. But close.”

       Asahi purses his lips and squints at the paper again. “...Toad?”

       “Turtle, Asahi. It’s a turtle. It’s so obvious.”

       They’ve done this before, in the club room, when everyone else was busy. Both of them are terrible at this game. Suga holds his hands out for the paper and pen and thanks Asahi when he passes them over.

       Suga, being fucking awesome at everything for some unfathomable reason, can actually draw well enough that they’ll be able to accurately guess what he's drawing. He looks at Noya’s picture and smiles. “It kind of looks like a cat, actually.”

       “That’s no better,” Noya whines, letting go of Asahi’s shoulders and flopping down onto the blanket nest.

       Some hours later finds them huddled around the nearly-full paper, criticizing Daichi’s final attempt at drawing an eagle while he glares at them. “Like you can draw a nicer one,” he barks at Asahi, who immediately shuts up and looks away.

       Noya snorts and collapses into his lap in a fit of giggles. Daichi doesn’t mind the second year laughing at him as much as he does Suga and Asahi. In fact, he’s glad to see him in such a good mood for a long period of time like this.

      “Wow, you guys suck.”

       “Yeah, we wouldn’t be friends with you if we didn’t.” Noya swipes at his eyes with his thumbs and shifts the pen back to Asahi’s hand.

       That absolute _shit_. Daichi can’t catch a break today. “First of all, you _punk_ \-- “

       “Ahh, you know we love you.” Suga smiles and thumps him roughly on the back.

       If this keeps up, he’ll lose his position of authority within the week. He can’t believe what assholes his best friends are, honestly…

       “I hear laughing, and I’m not included!” Tanaka’s voice carries through the tent door and the zipper flies open. “How very rude.”

       “Ryuu!” Nishinoya leaps up to latch onto his friend and pull him into the tent along with Ennoshita. “Play pictionary with us!”

       “I guess the party’s here tonight, then. Awesome.” Tanaka sprawls out on the blankets beside Noya.  

       Ennoshita looks nervously to Daichi. “The shift’s over, I think, so I sent Hisashi out in my place.”

       Leave it to Ennoshita to take responsibility for things so diligently. Daichi waves a hand in the air. “That’s fine. Thank you for doing that.”

       With that reassurance, Ennoshita seats himself beside Tanaka and the game is resumed. No, that’s wrong; they _try_ to continue with their game, but before Tanaka can even put the pen to the paper they are interrupted by a noise from somewhere outside. Asahi turns red to his ears and everyone glances at the door of the tent.

       Daichi sighs and opens the door enough to poke his head through. He clears his throat. “Have sex quietly or don’t have sex at all!”

       There’s a period of silence, then a humiliated whine from the far end of the line of tents, succeeded by, “You fucking moron!”

       The first years are quite the handful.

       “Anyway,” he returns to his former position on the blanket beside Suga, “continue.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stage II of an earthquake is dilatancy and development of cracks. The rocks are now packed as tightly as possible, and the only way the rocks can change shape is to expand and occupy a larger volume. This increase in volume is called dilatancy. The volume increase is caused by the formation of microcracks. As microcracks form, the water that normally fills the pores and cracks in the rocks is forced out, much like when you step on wet beach sand. Air now fills the pores and cracks in the rocks. During this process, the rocks become stronger and can store more elastic strain. This process can be detected on the surface by uplift and tilting of the ground."  
> Shhhh it's okay everyone's okay don't freak out. All is well.  
> For now.


	5. Influx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> According to the Law of Tsukishima Kei, the best and only way to cheer up your (boy)friend is to sass the captain. The Law of Tsukishima Kei is clearly flawless, and while Yamaguchi doesn't do much talking lately, he can certainly do some laughing.
> 
> Also Daichi is SUCH A DAD. Truly. Honestly.
> 
> Welcome to the nightmare-fluff-nightmare sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stage III of an earthquake is the influx of water and unstable deformation in the fault zone. During this stage, water is forced back into the pores and cracks in the rocks by the surrounding water pressures, much like when water fills the footprint in the sand. As the water returns, the dilatant rock loses its increased strength. The rocks are already strained beyond their normal capacity, and the rate at which the rocks fall in strength determines the instant of failure. The inflow of water also prevents further generation of microcracks; thus, the rocks stop expanding. In addition, the water in the rocks provides lubrication for the eventual release of the built-up strain."
> 
> Sincerest apologies in advance to Sugawara Koushi (you don't deserve to be sad wee bab).  
> Tsukishima's probably gonna be put on time-out one of these days for being a lil shit.
> 
> Short chapter b/c I wanted to update before school started.  
> In other news: School starts tomorrow, which means I WILL NOT UPDATE DAILY ANY LONGER. THIS CHAPTER IS HERE TO TIDE YOU OVER UNTIL I GET A CHANCE TO FINISH THE NEXT ONE.  
> SINCE I TECHNICALLY ONLY HAVE TWO CLASSES THAT MAY BE SOON.  
> SINCE I AM CURRENTLY TROUBLED BY WRITER'S BLOCK IT MAY NOT BE. WE'LL SEE. HAVE FUN CHILDREN!! <3

 

       Dreams are unusual in that they can be so vivid and extensive in sleep yet ephemeral and confused when one wakes from them. Daichi doesn’t remember every fine detail as he knows he experienced it in the dream itself, but he remembers exactly enough that he turns on the flashlight to be certain that there isn’t blood on his hands. And that Suga is still asleep beside him.

      Fuzzy as his memory of the nightmare is, his heart is still in his throat and his stomach churns angrily with his unease. He spends a long time staring at Suga, watching him breathe and twitch and mumble and _live_.

       “Damn it.” He scrubs his hands -- blood-free -- over his face and turns the flashlight off again. Suga’s fine. He’s just being an idiot. Suga’s always fucking fine and he really is a huge baby.

       Still, he takes Suga in his arms when he lies down and pulls him close, tucking his chin against his shoulder. It’s easier to sleep holding him.

       The movement rouses Suga, however, and he hums inquisitively, shifting in his grip. “What’s wrong, Daichi?”

       “Nothing, nothing, just can’t sleep,” he assures, kissing his beauty mark.

       He seems satisfied enough with the answer that he doesn’t speak. Placated, Daichi sighs and settles his head against the pillow. But then, “...You’re tense. Something _is_ wrong.”

      “It’s really nothing.” I just can’t stand the thought of losing you, is all. It makes me want to stop existing. No big deal or anything. “I just really love you a lot and I worry about you sometimes.”

       Suga turns in his arms to face him. “I love you, too,” he breathes, stroking his cheek with his knuckles. “And I spend more time than I probably should worrying about you.”

       Daichi kisses him then, slipping one hand around to the back of his neck to hold him close. He feels so, so guilty for being the cause of any of Suga's negative feelings. Not that a kiss will fix it, but he hopes that maybe it conveys his adoration for him enough to counter the negativity.

       He doesn’t stop until Suga smiles against his lips. He rests their foreheads together and smiles back in the darkness, rubbing his thumb up and down his neck.

       “You’re still tense, Daichi,” he muses, resting a hand on his shoulder.

       “Sorry, sorry.”

       “Sit up.” Suga shrugs him off and sits, turning on the flashlight. He obeys, not entirely sure what to expect until he kneels behind him and starts to massage his shoulders. Then his neck. Then his back. Then repeat. Bit by bit, Daichi melts under his hands, eventually letting his head fall back against his chest and smiling lazily up at him.

       He’s positive Suga’s a wizard or something absurd and magical like that. By the time he's finished working all the tension out of his upper torso, he’s completely forgotten about everything in the world that isn’t Suga.

       Nightmares included.

 

*

 

       “Kei, could you actually put your dishes in the wash basin when you’re done with them? We’re people, not pigs.” Daichi waves the empty bowl emphatically in the air before dropping it into the basin.

       “Whatever, _dad_.” Already on his way over to where Yamaguchi is melting water for rinsing the dishes, Tsukishima shrugs.

       “Don’t sass me!”

       This earns him a quiet laugh from Yamaguchi, which it takes Daichi a few seconds to realize was Tsukishima’s intention in addressing him that way. He’d actually been angry, too.

       Even so, the first years have definitely developed some sort of parent-child relationship with Suga and himself, so the title isn’t one he’s looking to complain about, joke or otherwise. He likes thinking of them as his own children. Even the second years. Asahi he views as more of a bumbling idiot of a brother, which really isn’t much different than how he saw him in their old life.

       So it would’ve been nice if Tsukishima could’ve called him dad and meant it, not using it as a joke to make Yamaguchi happy for a moment.

       Whatever; at least he’s sassing him at all, instead of viewing him as an authority figure to be feared. Daichi would feel distant and probably very lonely if everyone still did that.

       “What are you thinking about?” Suga asks beside him, leaning against the partition. He very nearly knocks the wash basin off the roof in his surprise.

       “Just how much I love washing dishes,” he replies as he gives Suga an exasperated look.

       “Well, it’s a very parental thing to do, so I guess it’s right up your alley.” He winks and flounces over to stand on his other side, taking the empty basin to bring to Yamaguchi.

       This is just getting out of hand. “You heard that?”

       Suga nods. “I was gonna reprimand him until I realized he was joking.”

       “Same.”

 

 

       This happens to be the same morning he receives the oh-so-entertaining task of teaching Noya how to shave, which results in a lot more blood than he was hoping for and a very curious Hinata begging him to teach him, too, lest he look like a caveman someday. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he definitely won’t be growing a beard any time soon, or that Kageyama’s more likely to reach that milestone before him. He just hands him the shaving cream and asks that he not use too much.

       “You’ll definitely be needing a lot of practice,” Suga comments as he wipes Hinata's face clean afterwards and stick bits of toilet paper where needed. Kageyama is laughing his idiot ass off a few metres away, reduced to sitting on the roof and clutching his stomach in his amusement. “I take it you know how to shave then, Tobio?”

       His head snaps up and he stares for a few moments before furrowing his brow. “No,” he admits quietly, shaking his head.

       “Then I suspect your first attempt will have similar results.” Suga smiles saccharinely at him as he pats Hinata’s shoulder to send him on his way. “All done.”

       Laden with bloody bits of tissue and laughing under his breath, Hinata struts over to Kageyama’s side and smacks him lightly atop his head. “You try it next time!”

       “Fine, I will! And I won’t hurt myself like an idiot!” he retorts, hand flying up to curl into Hinata’s hair and squeeze.

       Daichi’s too preoccupied with making sure they don’t try to kill each other to notice Suga until a hand is on his shoulder. He drops the can of shaving cream and Suga catches it and hands it back to him. “They’ll be fine. Tobio’s smiling.”

       Yeah, but that doesn’t mean things can’t escalate. How they even manage to maintain a relationship despite constantly bickering is well beyond him. “Just making sure.”

       “I’ll separate them if things get bad,” he assures him, settling on the wall beside him. “So what’s the plan for today?”

       Collecting as much snow as they can before it all melts sounds good enough. They have plenty of jugs, bottles, and basins to do so. Since none of the first years are out on patrol and he needs Kageyama and Hinata to stop arguing before he gets a headache, that can be their job. Suga…Suga’s always desperate to be needed, but a lot of what Daichi can offer is too much of a hazard.

       “Wanna help the first years collect water before the snow all melts?” Okay, so maybe Daichi isn’t the best person to ever grace the face of the planet. But selfishness isn’t necessarily a bad thing here.

       Besides, Suga agrees and rounds them up anyway. Nobody even complains about being assigned such a boring task.

       Daichi, on the other hand, has guard duty right about now, and watches his teammates mill about the field, gathering up the cleanest snow they can find and packing it into every available container. He keeps an observant eye on the trees across from them and consistently checks as far as he can around the perimeter of the building to make sure no zombies have the slightest chance of getting anywhere near them.

       It’s reminiscent of cleanup after practice; Kageyama and Hinata competing to fill the most containers, Yamaguchi hovering avidly by Tsukishima’s side, Suga keeping them on task when snow collection somehow escalates into a snowball fight. Then giving up and joining in, only to be unapologetically pelted with snow by all four of them.

       Daichi has no qualms laughing at them until his chest heaves. He’d like to climb down and join them, but he has a duty to protect them and as such remains at his post as Suga tells off Tsukishima for throwing snowballs at Hinata too roughly. Maybe someday they’ll all be able to have an actual, happy, carefree snowball fight. Someday. For now, he’ll be the observer. He’ll make sure no one gets hurt.

       That’s his job as captain.

       Suga looks exasperated even at such a distance when Kageyama slams a snowball into Tsukishima’s face, sending his glasses spiralling through the air. And Kageyama looks a good few light years away from being sorry about it.

       Hinata scrambles up the ladder a few moments later, hanging over the partition to beam at Daichi. “Suga wants to know if there’s any more containers to fill.”

       “Might be a few.” He offers a hand to Hinata and helps him onto the roof. “I’ll go check.”

       Sure enough, there are a few empty water jugs in the back of the supply tent still, and he carries them out to him. Briefly, he considers asking if he’ll be okay to carry them all down at once, but then; this is Hinata. Hinata can do anything he puts his mind to. Daichi just sends him on his way with a, “Be careful!”

       He still breathes a sigh of relief when his feet hit the ground.

*

       Daichi’s spent three quarters of a year anticipating an abrupt awakening, presumably to pry the walking dead off of his teammates, yet miraculously he’s never actually been graced with the misfortune of experiencing one. There’s been Suga dropping a flashlight on his head, Hinata stumbling into their tent, sobbing (there’s been several similar incidents, actually, but the Hinata fiasco was the first), and several storms. Those were just startling, really.

       But he’s completely unprepared for the urgency of Suga shaking him awake, breathing heavy and hands trembling and voice wet and strained. He’s less prepared for the light being turned on without warning, for Suga whining his name in some broken-record broken-spirited almost even _agonized_ way, and the tears when his eyes adjust to the light.

       Now, Suga’s tears are something he’s unaccustomed to. Not to say that he isn’t a sensitive person; quite the opposite, actually. He's just good at bottling things up, unhealthy a habit as it may be. Tears have happened a total of six times in Daichi’s memory, not counting when they were babies and all they ever did was cry, eat, and shit. Still, that only emphasizes the point that he’s only seen someone he’s known since they were in diapers cry six times in his life. And four of those were due to injury (three when they were children).

       He doesn’t even get out a “What’s wrong?” before Suga is pouncing on him, yanking him into a sitting position with hands fluttering over his chest and Daichi realizes how utterly frantic he is.

       “Daichi, Daichi, Daichi,” is all he says, over and over and progressively more frightened, choked, breathless; like he can’t even summon the energy to speak properly. He’s still a bit dazed, if he’s being honest. Sleep clings stubbornly to his every thought and his every thought quickly becomes “Koushi.”

       This, in turn, flips to “Koushi’s crying Koushi’s upset _Koushi’s hurt Koushi’s dying_ ” and his heart kicks itself into action in his chest,  blowing away any haze in his mind with ease.

       “Are you okay? What happened?” he asks, catching Suga's wrists between his fingers so he’ll just _stop and look at him_. He blinks, startled, then shakes his head as fresh tears build up in his eyes.

       “Daichiiii.” Suga's hands find his shoulders, pushing and prodding and he kneels to look at his back before nodding and settling down again to wipe his face half-heartedly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—“

       “You had a nightmare.” If alertness had been so kind as to embrace him earlier, he might have realized this sooner. Alas, here he is, and here Suga is, desperately in need of comfort, and just the few moments he’s been awake is already too long to have waited.

       He’s extremely careful about pulling Suga onto his lap, allowing him to rest his head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat despite how agitated and unsteady it must be. “Did you want to talk about it?”

       He can’t recall ever having dealt with a nightmare of Suga’s before – do angels even _have_ nightmares? – but of course he’ll follow the routine he’s witnessed in action several times before, in this very tent, sometimes even this very spot, with Suga holding a teammate’s hand or petting their hair or hugging them close. He’s a long way from being an expert at this, but he’ll still try. Anything for Suga.

       “I didn’t…it wasn’t really much. You just came back from a patrol and told me you needed to talk a-and showed me that you’d been bitten and the--” He stops to hiccough and wipe at his cheeks again. Daichi gently nudges his fingers away and does it himself, brushing stray hairs from his face in the process. “Then the next thing I knew you turned and I didn’t know what to do. I can’t…If you were one of them, I _couldn’t_ ….”

       He's struggling to breathe again, and it’s a pitiful sight, curled up in Daichi’s lap, red-eyed, splotchy-faced, brows drawn and chest heaving, and Daichi strokes his hair in an attempt to calm him. He’s not panicking as much as he expects himself to in these situations. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m fine, see?” He places a hand on Suga's cheek and makes him look at him until he nods and tries to smile. “I’m fine. I won’t leave you,” he promises, and the next moment his hand is in Suga’s and his lips are on his forehead.

       He will never, ever leave him no matter what happens in this godforsaken world.

       It’s another few minutes before Suga's calm enough to speak, Daichi coddling him the whole time (“Breathe. It’s okay; I’ve got you. I love you. Just breathe. Everything’s alright.”) and his thumb tracing over his cheek, swiping at stray tears. If there’s one thing he despises with all his heart, it’s seeing Suga upset.

       He apologizes again once he's checked him over a third time, once he's convinced Daichi isn’t injured, and settles back down with his ear over his heart. Daichi sighs against his hair.

       “Don’t be sorry. It happens to everyone. I’m just glad you care that much.” This, at least, evokes laughter from him that doesn’t sound forced.

       “I love you,” Suga mumbles after several moments of silence. Daichi squeezes his hand more tightly, anchoring him.

       “I know,” he says, lips near his ear. “I love you, too.”

       His hands start shaking only after he’s helped him back under the covers and turned the light off. He frowns deeply, tucking himself around Suga and assuring himself that Suga's okay and with him and that _he_ is okay and with _Suga_.

       He sincerely doubts his ability to keep his promises. They’ve been lucky so far. If anything in the apocalypse can even be associated with ‘luck’. But everyone they left the gym with initially is still alive, and that’s fortune for sure.

       Luck, he knows, can always run out.

 

 


	6. Deformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Typical morning with the Karasuno family: the first years are all ridiculous and Daichi and Suga just want to keep the peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breakdances because I really love the potential for character development Tsukki offers. I mean, they've all obviously experienced character development to some degree, and most have matured a lot, but Tsukishima especially has a lot of potential simply because he's such a pissy lil fucker in the actual manga/show.  
> This is short for two reasons: school and that I wanted a cliffhanger for something special.  
> So take this.  
> Daichi really likes the idea of being a dad and since it can probably never happen given the current state of the world, he'll take what he can get, which happens to be his favourite idiots. He'd die to protect them, though, so he takes his job very seriously.  
> (Also, guess what special day April 5th is? Hint: it's someone's birthday.)

 

* * *

 

       “Woah, it’s warm!” Hinata exclaims; he looks as if he expected to never see warm weather again. That being said, such a belief isn’t unreasonable. Kageyama whacks his shoulder and sends him sprawling face-first into the slush at their feet.

 

       “Be nice!” Suga calls from the side of the supply tent, where he's rationing their breakfast of rice and venison (courtesy of Tanaka and Kageyama).

 

       He _harrumphs_ but helps Hinata to his feet anyway, wiping the freezing mess from his face with his sleeve. “Of course it’s warm, moron, it’s spring,” he grumbles, and Daichi doesn’t quite catch Hinata’s response as he hurries past to help Suga.

 

       “They’re up early,” he says as he bumps Suga's hip with his. Suga kisses his cheek and smiles.

 

       “Shouyou’s on guard right now. Or, on his way, if he could separate himself from Tobio long enough to get over there.”

 

       Kageyama’s going out on patrol right after breakfast, which means getting them to pay attention to their jobs will prove difficult, if not impossible. But they need to learn that they can’t spend every waking moment together. Especially not if all they’re going to do is fight.

 

       “You’re the one who hogs blankets, stupid Tobio!” Hinata cries. When Daichi looks, they’re almost in the snow again, tangled around each other as Kageyama tries to pull Hinata’s hair and Hinata tries to push him away by his chin. He may actually kill them someday. His nerves are frayed enough without him worrying about them pushing one another off the damn roof.

 

       “Shouyou! Guard! _Now_!” he snaps, slamming the bowl in his hand back onto the makeshift table.

 

       Hinata jerks back out of Kageyama’s grip with a startled squeak. “Yes, Daichi!” He scurries off to his assigned post.

 

       Kageyama makes to follow him. God, Daichi needs an aspirin or something. “Tobio, help Suga with breakfast.”

 

      He doesn’t miss the reluctance in his actions as he veers off his set path and heads toward the supply tent, but he’d rather not listen to them fight all morning.

 

       “I might have to start playing marriage counselor soon,” Suga muses, setting out the last few plates and bowls to fill with food.

 

       “Nah, you’ve got plenty to deal with already.” He ruffles their hair a bit before taking off to where Tsukishima stares out towards the line of trees. “Hey. Up for hunting today?”

 

       Tsukishima shrugs, not looking away from the forest. “Who with?”

 

       “Ryuu and whoever else you want with you.” Probably Yamaguchi, if he’s looking to go out and do something besides hide away in his tent. He’s been a lot more tolerant of duties off the roof as of late.

 

       “Tadashi, then.”

 

       “If he’s okay with going out hunting with you, then yes,” Daichi reminds him, moving to lean against the partition as well. “How is he, by the way?”

 

       “Better. I don’t think he’ll mind going somewhere today.”

 

       It’s nearly undetectable, the pride in Tsukishima’s voice when he speaks of his friend’s condition improving, but Daichi catches it and grins. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s thanks to you, you know. You and Koushi. You’ve helped him a lot.”

 

       Daichi doesn’t miss the smile, either.

 

       “I didn’t do much. He managed fine on his own.” Oh, Tsukishima being shy is actually endearing, in some way. Daichi’s proud, though; he knows for a fact that Tsukishima’s involvement in helping Yamaguchi recover from the trauma of having his life destroyed has been a huge factor in his rapid progress.

 

       He just laughs quietly and allows silence to fall over them for a bit. The air, for the first time in a long time, isn’t debilitatingly cold. He’s content to just stand there until some other duty requires his attention, like Nishinoya almost falling off the roof in his excitement about something or another, or Narita and Kinoshita needing to clean up the goddamn mess in their tent (three times in about a month he’s been informed that it looks like disaster zone, and he’s decided against asking how the fuck they manage to continually cause such devastation in such a short period of time). Or maybe something normal, like eating breakfast or organizing a patrol or killing a zombie.

 

       His life is so fucking weird as of late. He’s accidentally become a dad (according to Suga, who seems to think his jokes are a riot), he lives on a roof, blankets have somehow become blessings, and he isn’t even sure what month it is, let alone what day.

 

       And here he stands, a proud accidental father beside his accidental son as they stare at some stupid trees and wonder if there are any zombies out there waiting. At least, Daichi’s wondering if there are any zombies in the forest. He isn’t looking to send a couple of teammates/children into the woods when zombies are around.

 

       He sighs. He’s still dancing around that delightful point of ‘losing his fucking mind any day now’. “Kinda wish I knew what day it was,” he says softly, turning to grin at Tsukishima. “It feels weird not knowing.”

 

       “It’s April fifth.”

 

       Daichi jumps a bit at the sound of Yamaguchi’s voice and spins around to look at him. He’s smiling, albeit nervously, as he sits cross-legged in the entrance to his and Tsukishima’s tent, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Ah, good morning, Tadashi. Sorry I didn’t notice you earlier.”

 

       “That’s okay. I’ve only been here for a few minutes.” He sets the pillow aside and shifts back into the tent a bit, then leans over the blankets heaped in the middle. “But I have a calendar in here somewhere…Ah! Here it is. Yeah, it’s April fifth. So, early spring.”

 

       “You’ve been keeping track?”

 

       Yamaguchi sits up again, retrieving his pillow. He nods. “Yup. Tsukki’s helped a bit, too, whenever I forgot a day or slept through one or something. So I’m almost 100% sure it’s right.”

 

       Keeping track of days sounds like a pretty good idea. Stress relieving, even. That might be why Yamaguchi’s doing it in the first place. Daichi hums approvingly. “Well. Thank you for that. It’s a good thing to know.”

 

       “Ah, it’s nothing.” Yamaguchi smiles sweetly and waves a hand dismissively.

 

       “By the way, did you want to try hunting with Kei and Ryuu today?” He still can’t shake the zombies in the woods thoughts, unfortunately. They’re just pointless apprehension. There will probably never come a day that the forest is zombie-free, so he needn't bother himself with concern over something like that.

 

       Yamaguchi barely hesitates. “Sure! Although, I’m not sure I’d like to kill anything…”

 

       “You don’t have to.” Tsukishima shakes his head, still looking away. “Just help keep us out of trouble.”

 

       “Sounds difficult,” he laughs, dropping calendar beside himself and curling around the pillow a bit more. “Really, though, I’d love to go. After breakfast, right?”

 

       “Yeah. Which reminds me; it’s just about ready. You two should get dressed and cleaned up.”

 

       As quiet as Tsukishima’s “Okay, dad” is, Daichi fights a smile as he walks away and Yamaguchi presses his face into his pillow to muffle his laughter.

 

 

 

       Daichi keeps with the (very recent) tradition of sending hunting patrols off with an escort. Crossing the field is the equivalent of a baby bird sitting itself down in a cat’s food dish and chirping loudly to catch the predator’s attention. They’re more vulnerable there than they are in the city – no buildings to hide in, nothing to climb, no streets to turn down to confuse or even slow any zombies that chase them. If a horde comes after them from any side, they’re royally fucked. So five people is better than three for the short journey to the forest.

 

       He kisses Suga’s forehead as a farewell, even though he’s only going to be gone for  _maybe_  twenty minutes, and drops a hand onto Hinata’s shoulder. “Ready to go?”

 

       “Mm-hm!” Hinata nods and hops onto the partition, catching himself on the ladder and hurrying to the pile of debris that awaits him at the bottom. By the time Daichi is adjusting the katana to make his descent easier and actually starting down the ladder, he’s picked his way down from the crate to the small group waiting for them.

 

       “-can come next time, maybe. I doubt Daichi would send two first years as an escort, though,” Tanaka is saying when Daichi reaches the ground.

 

       “Actually. It’s April. So they’ll technically be second years soon,” Daichi points out, patting Hinata’s head reassuringly to make him stop pouting. That also means that Asahi, Sugawara, and himself would be graduating. Damn. _Damn_.

 

       Too bad school doesn’t even exist anymore. Or maybe it does, in some far-off land untouched by the plague that has ruined Japan. Graduating might’ve been fun. Going to university, on the other hand, would have been hell. Especially since it likely meant being separated from Asahi and Suga. So in some twisted way, he’s pleased with the fact that the education system was eradicated along with society and all its structures and standards.

 

       Indeed, what a brilliant thing the apocalypse is. And what a price it is to pay just to stay with his friends.

 

       “Would that make the third years…fourth years?” Hinata wonders aloud, sending Tanaka and Daichi each a bemused look as they start walking across the field.

 

       “I think we’ll all just stay first, second, and third years forever,” Tanaka decides. He nods to himself. “Yeah. That’d be easiest.”

 

       The whole damn walk to the forest consists of those two blabbering amiably and laughing a gesticulating and really, Daichi just tunes them out after a while. He focuses instead on planning out the next week in his head. If today’s hunt is successful, the only patrol he’ll send out tomorrow will be for perimeter check. Then he can make sure everyone gets a chance to shower, and once they’ve used all the water they need for that, they’ll refill the containers with snow for the last time before it all disappears for good. Otherwise showers might be spread out over two days, because there are only two camp showers set up and patrols return late more often than not.

 

       He can have Suga take out a supply patrol the next day, he supposes, since he's so eager to be of use and Daichi doesn’t dare deny him validation.

 

       Then, maybe – he slows a bit as they approach the treeline, attention drawn to the violent rustling of underbrush and distinctly human silhouette among the shadows of the trees. He takes the few steps forward to stand in front of his teammates, draws his sword, and waits.

 

       There’s a moment of peace, of stillness, before it leaves those shadows.

 

       Then Daichi is staring Coach Ukai in the face.

 


	7. Inflow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi's life is hard and this whole volleyball team is just very, very gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay so sorry this took so long??? I'm splitting it into two parts b/c it turned out WAY longer than I originally anticipated. So enjoy the gay, and then another chapter of more gay, I guess.
> 
> In other news god bless Ennoshita Chikara for being an incredible human being and helping Daichi almost as much as Suga does.
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAROLINE, YOU BEAUTIFUL ADORABLE CREATURE <3  
> (Chapters 7 and 8 are both for you. Please do not kill me for this.)

          

* * *

 

           There are five stages of grief. Daichi’s seen them all, since the apocalypse started and everyone’s families died. Or disappeared. Or turned. Which, he supposes, still means they died. He’s also experienced them firsthand, though he’s loathe to admit it.

           

            (Then again, he might still be in stage one.)

           

            He distinctly recalls the discussion in psychology during his second year of high school, when the teacher asked who knew them well enough to write them all on the board. He remembers Sugawara volunteering to do so. Suga loved psychology a lot. Daichi’s not too sure how they feel about it now, aside from it being useful in dealing with their team.

           

            There are five stages in an earthquake, too, among several sub-stages and even sub-sub-stages. He hasn’t been through many earthquakes in his life, and nothing above a 4.0 on the Richter scale. But in first year geography, they focused on earthquakes for nearly two weeks, covering everything there was to know.

 

            And this Daichi knows now: things happen in five stages.

           

            Grief.

           

            Earthquakes.

 

            Decomposition.

 

            That had been third year biology. In fact, his class hadn’t gotten far past the day spent learning the five basic stages of decay when dead people started coming back to life. It was ironic, really, made more so by the fact that the process is thrown completely out of whack by this supposed ‘zombification.’

 

            It still happens; they still decompose. But they last longer than they should. At one month, they look as if they’ve barely surpassed initial decay.

           

            They’re durable corpses turned puppet, when it comes down to it.

 

            They’ll all achieve the point of dry decay eventually. They won’t be able to move anymore. They’ll fall apart. They’ll stop being a threat.

 

            Daichi just wonders how long that will take when they’re undead. He’s encountered his fair share of immobilized zombies at this point, so he supposes that in some cases it must take around six months.

 

            He can estimate how long Ukai’s been dead. And his honest opinion is less than a month. Dead less than a month, but dead nonetheless, and standing here in front of Daichi with an animalistic light in his pale grey eyes and a hole torn in the side of his face that shows his tongue working eagerly through his teeth. He can sense a dead man’s anticipation.

 

            All he feels is dread.

 

            It’s so clearly Ukai. He’s still wearing his orange sweater, now ratty and bloodstained. His hair is longer, matted, and the roots are black, the headband missing, but it’s Ukai’s hair.

 

            It’s _coach_ , but it’s not, not really, and Daichi can’t breathe for a moment.

 

           Ukai, at the very least, has been alive nearly nine months in this hell, and they haven’t run into him. Until now. Now, when he’s just another zombie that threatens their survival. This is absurd. Daichi needs to sit down. He needs to think.

 

           In all these months, they haven’t encountered a single other human being because their goal had been to _not_  encounter another human being. He didn’t know what to expect out of any potential meetings, but he knew there was a possibility of danger. Patrols are always direct and carefully planned so as to avoid unwanted interactions. He still remembers saying, “If you see any other people, just hide. We don’t know what they might be like. Hide until they’re gone. Make sure no one follows you back to the building.”

 

           Yet here they could’ve had their coach back if he wasn’t such an idiot.

 

           Ukai’s teeth click together briefly, and Daichi’s convinced he’ll break under the calculating gaze of a monster. He has to kill him. He doesn’t have a choice. A zombie is a zombie, former acquaintance or not.

 

           When Ukai lunges forward, snarling, predatory, _hungry_ , Daichi’s katana flies up to collide with his skull. The next instant he’s on the ground, and the end of the blade is sinking into his brain. He stops moving immediately, mouth falling open to reveal more reddened teeth and the beginnings of decomposition inside his cheeks. It reeks, between the stench from the hole in his head and the infinitely worse one from his mouth.

 

           Daichi just stares. That was his volleyball coach. This is so many varieties of fucked up. He needs Suga.

 

           And then Tanaka is upon him, and he’s screaming something nonsensical and swinging a fist at Daichi, who doesn’t even bother to dodge because his whole mindset is currently _what the fuck_ and other things are meaningless in comparison. He still sits up once he’s on the ground, though.

 

           It’s Yamaguchi’s hand on his shoulder and the tears in his eyes that bring him back to reality. Tsukishima is restraining Tanaka, shock and determination mixing into a grimace on his face as Tanaka digs an elbow into his ribcage and shrieks something else at Daichi, something about being a traitor.

 

           “Are you okay, captain?” Yamaguchi asks softly, biting his lip.

 

          Right. Shit. He needs to take care of them. Of his teammates. They’re clearly distraught, and he’s just sitting on the ground cupping his rapidly-swelling cheek in his hand. “I’m fine. Are _you guys_  okay?”

 

           Yamaguchi looks to the side, eyebrows furrowing, and he shakes his head as the first tear starts down his cheek. “I...I don’t-”

 

           Tanaka breaks out of Tsukishima’s grip and hurls himself at Daichi again, eyes already red from crying as he prepares to hit him again. “How could you!? He was our coach!”

 

           Daichi’s first instinct is to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pin him to the nearest tree. He doesn’t try to hit him after that, too busy giving him an astonished look. “He was a zombie. He would’ve killed us,” Daichi growls, fingers curling tighter into the fabric. “There wasn’t any other choice.”

 

           Great; now he’s got a patrol of crying teenagers to take home. Tsukishima isn’t crying, though. He’s just staring into space, dazed. Tanaka, on the other hand, hiccoughs and covers his face with his arm. “He didn’t deserve that.”

 

           “No one deserves that,” Daichi deadpans, setting him back on his feet. “We’re going back. No more patrols today.”

 

           They’ll still have one more, he knows, to burn Ukai’s body. He can’t leave him there to rot. But he supposes Ennoshita and Suga will be enough for that task.

 

           He has to physically remove Hinata from where he stands over Ukai, grasping his shoulder firmly and steering him back in the direction of the apartment building. He tries to ease the sobs that set the kid’s whole body trembling as they walk.

 

           If Ukai’s lasted this long, then there’s a possibility, however slight, that Takeda is okay, too. He’d just assumed the worst when they didn’t make it to the school to meet everyone. He assumes _now_  that they must’ve found each other somehow if their priority wasn’t family. Even then, it’s possible that they ended up together, through their own actions or pure chance.

 

           Of course, the likelihood that their sensei is dead is much higher than that of him being alive and well, especially given Ukai’s current state. Daichi sighs heavily as he guides Hinata’s hands to the nearest rung of the ladder and tells him to climb. They’re not going to waste the energy to search for him on the off chance that he’s still alive.

 

           By the time he’s on the roof, Suga’s already upon the first years and has gotten as much of the story as he needs. He shoots Daichi a mournful look as he settles against the wall. This didn’t have to be such a shit day. He needs to go find somewhere peaceful to have a mental breakdown.

 

           Suga takes his hand and smiles tremulously, helping him stand properly. He still has an arm around Hinata’s shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I know it hurts, but it won’t forever.”

 

           Surprisingly enough, Tanaka doesn’t wait until they’ve hidden themselves away in their tent to cling to Ennoshita. He snatches him up in a hug and presses his face to his shoulder and keeps crying. Ennoshita rubs his back and cries with him, albeit less loudly and dramatically.

 

           It’s like week one of zombie apocalypse survival all over again. Hell, it’s almost like _day_  one; the day of bereavement and seeking comfort in teammates.

 

           Daichi inhales deeply, exhales slowly, and calls a team meeting. Naturally, by the time everyone’s actually gathered outside the supply tent, they all know exactly what’s happened. He takes the time to examine everyone’s expression before speaking, gaze lingering on each face present in their small, misshapen circle. “It’s true -- and I’m very sorry that it is -- but coach Ukai is dead. And yes; I’m the one who put him down. He was still a zombie, whether or not he was our coach before. So we’re not doing anything else today besides recovering. Except Koushi and Chikara. I want you two to come with me on one last errand before lunch.”

 

           He leaves them with that and trudges over to his tent. He doesn’t have a chance to lose his mind right now. He doesn’t have the freedom to think about just what the fuck he’s done today. Ennoshita and Suga appear in the entrance within seconds, the former looking very curious and the latter as understanding as ever.

 

           “We’ve got matches, right?” He asks even though he knows the answer already, leaning back in the blanket nest to look as relaxed as he’s trying to feel.

 

           “Yes.” Suga nods and reaches out for him. “In the supply tent. We’ll get them on the way by.”

 

           “Where is it that we’re going exactly?” inquires Ennoshita. His knuckles are white around the edge of the tent door, like he’s physically holding himself back from something, and Daichi worries that taking him on this patrol might be detrimental. But, no, he has the potential to be in a role of leadership someday, Daichi knows. He’s going to have to give up eventually, before he stumbles badly enough to get everyone killed, or finally snaps. And if Suga won’t take up the position, then Ennoshita is certainly the best candidate. Tanaka’s hotheadedness is his only downfall. He’d make a great captain otherwise.

 

           “To burn the body. We’ll need something flammable. Have either of you siphoned gas before?”

 

           Suga hasn’t, of course, but Ennoshita nods after momentary hesitation, looking distinctly ashamed. Daichi forces a laugh, short and weak. “I’m not going to ask. Just do it for us. Please.”

 

           He isn’t sure what might happen if they try to burn a body without the assistance of something like gasoline. He doesn’t want to know. He just arms them (and hands Suga one of their worse-for-wear blankets), takes them to the ground, and finds Ennoshita a hose, a suitable container, and a car.

 

           It’s not much, in the end. Barely three litres. But it should be enough. He carries it through the field until they reach the body, then passes it off to Ennoshita while he wraps Ukai in the blanket. The poor kid looks horrified at the sight of their coach in this condition, eyes bulging and lip curled back as he stares at the red and black sludge still oozing from his head. With Suga, Daichi lifts the bundle and together they haul it off to the back parking lot of a building about a block away.

 

           This fucking sucks worse than anything else Daichi can think of. They dump their shared burden on the weathered asphalt and allow Ennoshita to pour the gas over the body.

 

           He won’t make either of them do the actual burning, though. This much he’ll handle on his own.

 

           “Shouldn’t we say something?” Ennoshita looks to Daichi as he pops open the matchbox and draws one. “A farewell?”

 

           Yes, they should, but then the reality of the situation may land a solid blow and reality is _such_  a bitch. He nods anyway. “I suppose so. What did you want to say?”

 

           He’s silent for a few moments. Then, “Thanks for being such a dedicated coach. Sorry it had to end this way.”

 

           Suga’s hand lands on his shoulder before he can start crying again.  

 

           Daichi looks them in the eye as he strikes the match. He only glances away once it flares up, to glower at the flame as he says his piece: “The end of the world is stupid.”

 

           He flicks it onto the blanket and waits until the fire has spread to start walking away. As far as he knows, the light will attract zombies, so it’s best if they don’t stick around. There’s also the issue of a mourning team awaiting them back on the roof, and the fact that they’ll need someone there to comfort them.

 

           “We’re not going to go looking for anyone,” he says on the way up the fire escape, trailing his fingers over the cool railing on the ascent.

 

           “I know,” Suga murmurs behind him, forlornly. “It would be dangerous.”

 

           “If you see people, though, I think trying to talk to them would be...helpful.”

 

*

 

            Kageyama is complete shit at being reassuring. He’s trying, at least, but Hinata is more than a little devastated, having just seen a sword put through his coach’s skull. Suga takes them both in his arms, holding them and crying silently with them as he tells them that it’s okay to be upset and that things will surely get better.

 

            Daichi doesn’t know where to start. He supposes Noya has the Asahi situation under control, and Ennoshita and Tanaka have ventured over to them to talk, it seems. Kinoshita and Narita join them after a few moments, dragging themselves out of their tent and shuffling over to where they sit on cushions by the supply tent.

 

            Technically speaking, this is his fault. Suga will castigate him for blaming himself, surely; he had no choice, unless he wanted one of the kids to be bitten. For the time being, however, he’s going to keep doing so. It _was_  his hand that put the katana through Ukai’s head.

 

            He scoops up a handful of slush to hold to his cheek and moves to stand before Tsukishima, who hangs his head and sits as still as possible, one arm resting on his bent knee and another slung loosely around Yamaguchi’s shoulder. Daichi takes his hand - the one _not_  full of melting snow - and rests it on his head.

 

            “Hey.”

 

            Tsukishima doesn’t move, doesn’t even make a sound to indicate he heard him, but when Daichi crouches down he’s met with a scowl and dry eyes. Yamaguchi is crying, but as quietly as possible, perhaps so as not to disturb Tsukishima’s own personal form of mourning.

 

            Daichi sighs. He knows he’s crying, to some extent, and he sees no need for shame in tears. Not in this situation. “It’s okay to cry, you know.”

 

            “I know.”

 

            Yamaguchi knows, too, because he hunches over a bit more and hiccoughs loudly.

 

            “So don’t hide how you feel. Cry, or you’re going to feel like shit. I know what you just saw was pretty fucked up, and I want you to express that.” Daichi’s hand ends up on Yamaguchi’s shoulder instead of Tsukishima’s head, drawing him closer in an attempt to soothe him. He watches Tsukishima’s face contort as Yamaguchi is taken from him. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” Daichi says under his breath as Yamaguchi slumps against him. He prays to whoever will listen that Yamaguchi doesn’t fall back into the despair that had a grip on him for so long.

 

            But he’s stronger than that now. He is. He’s upset at the moment, as he should rightfully be, but Daichi doesn’t see him reverting back to that state again any time soon; not after all they’ve done to help him. Not after all he’s done to help himself, difficult as it was to get him thinking for himself again.

 

            He wasn’t prepared for today. He hadn’t given the idea of their coach being alive much thought in the first place. Now he knows, if anything like this happens again, to make sure no one else sees what happens.

 

            Somehow, he doesn’t think anything like this _will_  happen again.

 

            Tsukishima finally scoots forward the last few centimetres to allow Daichi to put an arm around him as well. They’re sitting in the slush, and Daichi’s hand and cheek are freezing with the memory of the now-melted handful. A change of clothes will be in order once everyone perks up a bit, since it’s soaked through all of their boots and is in the process of melting onto their pants. He squeezes his teammate’s shoulders briefly.

 

            He’s had enough of thinking responsibly today. He’d rather just wallow for a while. Fuck clothes, fuck snow, fuck leadership roles: he bows his head and cries -- really cries, not the ‘pretending there aren’t tears there’ bullshit he’s been pulling for the past few minutes.

 

            When Tsukishima joins him, he feels Yamaguchi tense a bit in his grasp, then fall back into his previous rhythm of quiet sobs.

 

*

 

            It’s only worse once he’s hidden himself away in the tent. This is going to be a bad night for Suga, full of weeping children and recountings of nightmares and begging to be held until all the bad things go away. He knows this -- feels terrible to be the cause of it -- but the moment Suga’s fingers are off the tent zipper, Daichi grabs for him and holds on for dear life. It’s late now. They stayed up talking until the sun set, telling stories and cracking jokes in an attempt to alleviate the somber feeling that settled over their camp. It worked, in some ways. Noya’s very clever about cheering people up, possibly even more so than Suga, and tripping over a guide wire and taking Asahi down with him was the beginning of what he ended up explaining to Daichi was the ‘make everyone think of other things’ plan. Which, all things considered, succeeded enough that everyone stopped crying, and some laughed, so he’s not going to complain about Asahi’s bruised arms or the fact that Noya somehow managed to almost fall off the damn roof in his frolicking.

 

            Daichi requires Suga’s attention before it’s stolen away from him. He won’t openly admit his devastation over the events of the day, but he’ll express it. The team might allow them some time alone before bombarding Suga. He hopes. He needs it, so if they interrupt his grieving they’ll get a scolding to rival them all. But as he sobs softly against Suga’s shoulder, there’s no announcement of an arrival from just outside the tent; just Suga’s fingers working through his hair, feather-light kisses to his cheeks and forehead and occasionally the top of his head, and Suga offering reassurances as well as he can: “I know, I’m sorry; it’s going to be okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s alright, just breathe.”

 

            It’s really not going to be okay, as nice as that would be. There wasn’t a foreseeable ‘okay’ before today, not with the universe beating furious fists down on them at each turn, bearing death and fear and dead ends and lost causes and missed opportunities and always, always the unease of living with the world in this state. Now even the idea that someday ‘okay’ might just be _possible_  seems far-fetched. Daichi is just so fucking fed up with life right now. So fucking tired of having to play the role of responsible adult. He’s sick of making the wrong decisions and even just having to worry about doing so, and constantly feeling like everything is his fault, or _knowing_  that everything is his fault.

 

            He grips the thin fabric of Suga’s shirt so hard he might tear it, rip apart the threads like they’re his sanity and then still refuse to let go purely out of desperation and stubbornness. And he just keeps crying. Because everything aches, he hates his life, and there’s little else he can do.

 

            Suga’s habit of reflecting him should have him scrambling to keep his cool so as not to cause him any more despair than he may be feeling. He knows his tears are Suga’s tears, and vice versa, but at this precise moment he isn’t thinking about how much he hates to see Suga cry, or wondering if he's even crying anyway. He’s only thinking about how much he just needs to weep his way into oblivion without distraction.

 

            That’s about the most selfish thing he’s ever done.

 

            Still, Suga’s hands don’t leave him, his voice doesn’t waver. It’s just a consistent melody, a song of his hair rustling under their ministrations and them feeding him all the lies they know he needs to hear.

 

            Even when the violence of his breakdown catches up with him and offers monstrous pain to the inside of his skull, as he remembers over and over what he did to Ukai, as his body sags in Suga's arms, he keeps talking. Daichi’s grateful for that. The last thing he needs now is to feel like he isn't there with him, or that he doesn't understand, or doesn’t know how to help. Suga knows that his presence alone is comforting.

 

            He utilizes that knowledge very, very well. Although Daichi eventually does go completely limp, more from exhaustion than, say, having been lulled to sleep by his quiet singing, it takes much longer than it might have if he’d been allowed to go through that outburst on his own.

           

*

 

            “Daichi, sweetheart, wake up.”

 

            If he didn’t know any better, Daichi would assume it was his own mother calling upon him. But it’s Suga’s voice, Suga’s hand in his hair, Suga’s sweet little pet name for him.

 

            “Daichi,” he repeats, louder this time, and Daichi really doesn’t want to face the world right now. He screws his eyes shut and makes to roll over – away from Suga, to let him know that as much as he loves him, he wants to be left alone for a bit. But Suga's hand, still on his head, stops him. “Ryuu is here to see you.”

 

           Too bad he pissed Tanaka off; sleep would be less a dream and more a reality if he wasn’t such a sack of shit. He thought he was doing the only right and just thing he could do. He probably pissed the whole team off.

 

            Then again, Tanaka’s the only one who punched him. His cheek throbs when he thinks about it. He’ll admit, the kid has a brutal right hook.

 

            He groans and rubs at his eyes, fingers ghosting over the swollen flesh under the left one. He supposes he fell asleep while he was crying on Suga, embarrassing as that is. Tanaka’s already inside the tent, kneeling at the foot of the ‘bed’ with his head bowed solemnly.

           

            “Uh. Hey,” he begins, looking incredibly small and insecure for someone typically domineering and overwhelming.

 

            “Hey,” Daichi croaks, sending a questioning look in Suga’s direction. Unfortunately he's occupying himself with a book, as far away from the conversation taking place as possible, and damn; he moves fast. Daichi could’ve sworn he was by his side less than a second ago. Whatever Tanaka’s here for must be damn important, if Suga’s already picked up on the tension undoubtedly looming over them. “What, uh, what time is it, about?”

 

            “I’d say four in the morning,” Suga offers calmly from his corner, not even sparing them a look.

 

            Surely Tanaka didn’t stay up this late? The dark bags under his eyes give his exhaustion away, of course, but Daichi still hopes he got _some_  sleep tonight. He flattens his hair as he shoves at the blankets heaped around him and attempts to look more dignified than he knows he does. “What is it?” he asks finally, unease bubbling in his stomach at Tanaka’s demeanour.

 

            He purses his lips and glances away briefly. “I’m. I’m really sorry that I punched you earlier.” Okay, that’s not entirely unexpected. It could’ve waited until morning, though. Unless guilt is what caused his apparent restlessness and consequent tiredness.

 

            There are some exceptions to what Daichi considers ‘irrelevant enough to wait until morning’ and inability to sleep is very obviously among those. He waves it off with a crooked attempt at a smile. “Nah, it’s fine. You were in the right. It’s also my fault I didn’t try to dodge, anyway.”

 

            “No, no.” Some semblance of the ferocity that Daichi’s learnt to associate with Tanaka returns, sparking in his eyes as he straightens up. “That was irrational of me. I knew exactly what was happening and why you did what you did, but I still lost control because I let my emotions get the best of me. I overreacted. That makes me wrong. And I’m very, very sorry, and completely understand if you want to punish me.”

 

            Daichi instinctively looks to Suga again, only to find that he's staring open-mouthed at Tanaka, and he knows he’s mirroring that expression. He blinks a few times and tries to find the right words, to let Tanaka know that everything is fine and Daichi really doesn’t think what he did was wrong, not at all. “I…of course I’m not going to _punish_  you, I mean – I’m not mad or anything, really…”

 

            “Chikara told you to say that, didn’t he?” Suga’s grinning behind the book, one eyebrow quirked up as he stares innocently at Tanaka, who blanches and then flares red.

 

            “Yeah, he did, kind of. Like, I said I needed to apologize to Daichi and didn’t know how so he helped and…yeah. Sorry.”

 

            Daichi thumps him on the shoulder and chuckles. “Would you stop apologizing? I honestly don’t care that you hit me, or that you overreacted, or anything. Just get some damn sleep; you look like shit,” he tells him amiably, and suddenly things make a lot more sense than they did a few seconds ago. Only Ennoshita would be able to make Tanaka sit through a whole lesson on being sufficiently apologetic and _succeed_  in teaching him something like that.

 

            “I could say the same for you,” Tanaka mutters, breaking out into a grin of his own as the blush fades from his face.

 

            “Okay, do you want me to reciprocate the punch or are you going to go to sleep?”

 

            Tanaka scrambles to his feet, bows (more deeply than is entirely necessary, but Daichi lets it slide) and hurries out of the tent with a final, “Thanks!” called over his shoulder.

 

            Well, now that that’s over with (and Daichi’s not sure whether to be thankful that it _happened_  or that it’s _over_ ) he can go back to sleep, which he quite desperately needs after a day like this. He rolls his shoulders a bit to ease the growing ache there and reaches out to Suga. “Come back to bed.”

 

            “Actually,” he starts, smiling and setting the book aside so he can crawl back into the dim light of the flashlight, “I haven’t gone to bed yet.”

 

            He can see that now. He looks like worse shit than Tanaka in the light. “Koushi, come on. Why haven’t you slept?”

 

            He shrugs and plops down on the blankets beside Daichi, leaning into his touch when he loops an arm around his waist. “Too much happening. It’s fine, though; I’ll just sleep tomorrow.”

 

            “Koushi,” he starts, imminent castigation evident in his tone. If it’s as late (or early?) as Suga says it is, then there can’t realistically be so much happening that he hasn’t had a chance to sleep. Everyone must have crashed long ago. Except, apparently, Tanaka.

           

            The quiet voice from outside the tent says otherwise.

 

            “Come on in,” Suga calls, wriggling out of Daichi’s grasp and forcing him to lie down again. He presses a finger to his lips as the zipper door slides open and Nishinoya scurries inside.

 

            Daichi gets the message, and by the time Noya even glances his way he’s sound ‘asleep’, facing away from them with the blankets pulled up to his nose. There are a million things he can think about to distract himself from the conversation taking place behind him, and he manages to cycle through them all and avoid all the terrible thoughts that the current state of his life usually forces upon him.

 

            But, no, really; he ends up falling back asleep within two minutes of closing his eyes, which he definitely did not intend. And waking up in the morning to discover that Suga hasn’t slept at all is not something he wants to do. So it’s fortunate for him that Suga calls out to him after Noya leaves, evidently unaware that he’s managed to pull the (completely unfair) move of passing out while Suga endures the struggle of staying awake as long as possible.

 

            It’s with a very disgruntled and bemused sound that he shakes off his exhaustion. Immediately Suga is apologizing for waking him a second time, telling him that he didn’t know he was asleep, but Daichi ignores him in favour of dragging him under the blankets.

 

            “Wait, what are you doing?” he demands when Daichi turns the flashlight off and flops down against him.

 

            “You gotta sleep. No more visits tonight. It’s not good to push yourself like this.” He nuzzles his face against Suga's shoulder and ensures that he’s wrapped thoroughly enough around him that he won’t escape and try to play the role of a doting parent again.

 

            But Suga heaves a sigh of resignation and relaxes without another word.

 

*

 

           

            “He sleeps as stupidly as he exists,” Tsukishima comments as Suga rests a tender hand on Hinata’s shoulder to shake him awake.

 

            He’s reasonably exhausted, having clearly not slept much last night, and within minutes of Kageyama leaving for perimeter patrol he simply laid down on their cushions and went to sleep. Which is as concerning as it is amusing, and Daichi can’t help but blame himself.

 

            Honestly, he _did_  kill Ukai right in fucking front of him. So while everyone in the camp exists in some state of drowsiness this morning, it’s the people who were on the patrol with him that he expects the least of today.

 

            Hinata sleeping is no big deal. Of course, he’s the one who insisted on getting up this morning even after both captain and vice-captain offered to let him sleep in.

 

            The drooling all over the cushions is what Daichi could do without.

 

            “Don’t be mean,” Suga chastises as he tries to wake the slumbering idiot up. Alas; he continues snoring like his life depends on it. “Shouyou. Wake up. You can go back to your tent and sleep.”

 

            Still nothing. Well, if that’s how it’s going to be… “I’ll take him to the tent,” Daichi offers. He isn’t exactly overwhelmed with duties this morning. If anything, he’s kind of bored, with breakfast over and the only patrol to fret over within sight, should he just look down over the edge of the roof.

 

            “No, I got it.”

 

            He tries to hide the look of utter disbelief. He truly, honestly does. But even Suga’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when Tsukishima speaks up.

 

            Tsukishima expressing even the slightest sentiment of camaraderie toward Hinata is like the apocalypse all over again, but somehow scarier. They don’t object, though. Daichi just nods warily and backs off so he can pick Hinata up and carry him back to the tents.

 

            “Well. Okay. How did that happen?” Tanaka wonders aloud, the miniature slush/snowman he’s been prodding at abandoned in favour of watching his teammates disappear into Hinata’s tent.

 

            The few people left sitting around the camp stove shrug.

 

            Daichi is like, 98% sure that he’s hallucinating. Not to say that it wouldn’t be really great if all the first years could start getting along properly after all this time. They fucking _live_  together, as it is. There needs to be some progression of relationships, or he’s going to be seriously concerned for their social abilities.

 

            “He doesn’t hate Shouyou, you know,” Yamaguchi pipes up from beside the space Tsukishima had occupied just seconds before. “Especially now that we’re all together all the time. I think – don’t tell him I said this – but I think he’d like to be friends with him and he just isn’t sure how to do that.” He laughs lightly behind his hand and Daichi is now 100% certain that Suga put some very strong drugs in his breakfast.

 

            “Honestly, I don’t think it’s possible for any of us to hate each other at this point,” Ennoshita says with a shrug as he hands Tanaka some twigs to complete his now-melting slushman with. The latter’s eyes light up with glee as he accepts them.

 

            “Still the weirdest thing I’ve seen all week.” He doesn’t have to be _nice_  to Hinata and creep everyone out; maintaining a level of cool civility to him would suffice, really. Daichi sighs and shakes his head. “This is honestly the weirdest family I could have ever asked to be a part of.”

 

            Tanaka leaps up from his cushion (effectively crushing the poor, lopsided creature he’s been constructing under his foot, much to Ennoshita’s dismay) and points at Daichi, a triumphant grin on his face. “Aha! So you admit that we’re a family!”

 

            “I never said we weren’t, moron! Sit down,” he snaps, reaching out to turn the flame on the stove higher. It’s another chilly morning, but definitely one of the last of the season. Daichi’s cheeks still tingle with cold even though he’s been awake at least two hours.

 

            Tanaka sticks out his tongue and drops back down to sit. As it happens, Tsukishima returns at that moment, and the argument (was it even an argument?) is forgotten when Tanaka turns his attention to the first year. “Y’know, if you start flirting with Shou, Tobio’s gonna rip your dick off.”

 

            Tsukishima, bless him, blushes to the tips of his ears. “What are you – I’m not going to flirt with him. Where do you even get that idea?”

 

            “Oh, c’mon, he’s super cute. Why wouldn’t you? I bet if Yuu wasn’t on patrol he’d totally back me up on this.”

 

            “Don’t be an idiot, Ryuu,” Ennoshita smacks his shoulder, and Daichi pleads to the gods for assistance in keeping these kids from killing each other someday. “No one wants to experience Tobio’s wrath over something like that.”

 

            Tanka snorts loudly, ignoring Ennoshita altogether. “Kei’s got a crush on Shouyou.”

 

            “I don’t. That’s stupid.”

 

            Yamaguchi is almost in hysterics, trying to muffle his laughter with his hand but failing spectacularly.

 

            “Shh. Accept it.” Tanaka reaches out to pat his cheek melodramatically, making Tsukishima’s expression contort into one of fury. “You love him.”

 

            “He’s stupid,” Tsukishima counters, crossing his arms. The next instant Tanaka is behind him, pressing down on his shoulders and smirking his loser ass off.

 

            “Tsukishima Kei is in love with his number one rival!”

 

            Was Daichi a serial killer in a past life? Is that why he has to suffer like this? (It could be something much worse -- though he can’t imagine what -- and be that the case, this won’t be the worst of his punishment.)

 

            “I’m in a relationship with Tadashi, you moron!” Tsukishima snaps, finally losing his cool.

 

            Daichi never really suspected anything different, but he also never expected Tsukishima to actually admit to it. Tanaka’s ability to irritate anyone clearly has no limitations.

 

            He could’ve sworn no one’s had any caffeine yet today.

 

            “Oooh.” God, please no. “Plot twist.”

 

            Yamaguchi, the poor creature, is so red he looks as though he might lose consciousness.

 

            If there is anything good left in this world, Daichi will be relieved of his duties as captain of this team and every last dumbass on it. “That’s hardly a twist of any sort, Ryuunosuke,” he informs him calmly. “Go to your tent before Kei kills you.”

 

            Tanaka’s hands leave Tsukishima’s shoulders, only to be planted firmly on his hips. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not even my real dad.”

 

            “Ryuunosuke,” he begins again, sitting up a bit straighter, “go to your tent before _I_  kill you.”

 

            It just so happens that at this exact moment, Noya flies across the roof and tackles Tanaka, sending both of them sprawling through the slush. “Raising hell again, my dearest friend!?” he exclaims animatedly, and really, honestly, Daichi doesn’t know what the hell is wrong with these kids, to be so full of mischief at such an hour. They still have dark bags under their eyes, after all.

 

            Kageyama and Asahi approach in a much less… disruptive manner, Asahi stopping in front of Daichi to give an update on the status of the barricades. Which, as usual, is just that maybe they should get to reinforcing them someday, just in case, but otherwise all is well.

 

            Kageyama glances round the circle, eyeing the cushions he left Hinata occupying suspiciously. “Where’s Shouyou?”

 

            “Asleep in your tent. Kei brought him there,” Tanaka tells him from beneath a still-laughing Nishinoya.

 

            Daichi covers his face with his hands and groans. Why this. Why him. Why can’t he have one normal day. He feels Suga’s hand pat his back gently a few time and hears a quiet, “There, there” from him.

 

            “Actually, Tobio, could you help me collect the dishes to wash? I’m sure he’d like to be left alone right now.” Daichi couldn’t be more grateful to Suga.

 

            “You’re momming them, Suga.” When he looks again, Noya has relinquished his grip on Tanaka and is kneeling beside him as he catches his breath. What does that even _mean_?

 

            “Shush.” Suga waves him off and hands Kageyama a stack of bowls. “Tadashi, water please.”

 

            Yamaguchi scrambles to his feet, still blushing, but relief clear on his face for the distraction. “Y-yup! On it.”

 

            Tsukishima, upon further inspection, looks like he’s lost touch with reality altogether.

 

            Incredible how they can go from mourning the death of their coach one day to being the stupid teenagers they’re meant to be the next.

 

*

 

            “Why is it so hot?” Hinata whines, reaching down to pry his shirt off before anyone can stop him.

 

            To be fair, living on a roof as summer approaches with increasing rapidity is not helping their case at all.

 

            “Because the sun is out, and the sun is hot, dumbass,” Kageyama explains as he tries to force his shirt back on. He doesn’t manage, but still gets smacked with the garment for his efforts.

 

            “Yeah, okay, but the sun is out in the winter, too. And it’s cold in the winter,” Hinata points out, looking remarkably smug.

 

            Kageyama sighs exasperatedly. “That’s because the sun is cold in the winter. It's only hot in the summer. Did you even pay attention in school?”

 

            “Oh my god. Oooh my god.” There’s a quiet thud beside Daichi and he glances down to see Suga sitting on the roof with his face in his hands, shoulders trembling.

 

            “Koushi, are you okay?” he asks tentatively, kneeling beside him. He forgets the undying stupidity of the first years for the moment, prioritizing Suga’s well-being.

 

            Suga waves him off casually, swiping under his eyes swiftly as he straightens up a bit. The final traces of his laughter linger in his eyes. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I just…oh my god, how is that even possible. How can they even be so clueless?”

 

            “I recall a time they needed tutoring _and_  supplementary lessons to pass their exams, so I’m not too surprised,” he decides, glancing over his shoulder to where Kageyama and Hinata are in the midst of a heated discussion about the sun’s fluctuating temperature. “I don’t think there’s any hope for them.”

 

            He helps Suga to his feet as he shake his head. “Maybe someone should explain…?”

 

            If Daichi wanted them to be more confused than they already are, he’d try to explain something simple like how babies are made or why it rains. They’ll manage just fine not understanding how the sun works. He rubs Suga's back a bit on the way over to the corner of the roof. There’s laundry to be washed, and with the blessing of recent rainstorms, they’ve the water to spare to get the job done. Not to shower – why would they ever be granted consistency in that luxury? – but when there’s blood and guts on one’s clothes, they’d vastly prefer those be cleaned over their own body.

 

            As such, the intellectual shortcomings of the first years can be put aside while they do the work they need to do.

 

            “Yeah, let’s not bother today.”

 

            On the bright side, someone was kind enough to set up the “laundry tub” for the third years to use. It’s not really the best they could’ve done, but it works well enough. Asahi’s already there, a stack of dripping clothes hanging over the edge of the tub, and he scoots the folded blanket he’s kneeling on over a bit so his friends can join him.

 

            “Great news,” Daichi drags a second blanket over and folds it for himself, “the first years need about twenty more years of schooling.”

 

            “Daichi, god, it’s not _that_  bad,” Suga laughs, cuffing him gently around the back of the head. “Did you want me to start hanging this? Kei already put up a line.” He gestures behind himself to the length of rope stretched between the protrusion of the walls around the stairwell and the top of the supply tent.

 

            “That’d be great, thanks,” Asahi smiles as he takes another shirt from the rank pile and submerges it. There’s some sort of lavender-scented detergent from the drugstore mixed in with the water.

 

            That whole store is a gift from the heavens.

 

            Suga hoists the bundle of wet clothes into his arms and scurries off to drape them over the clothesline. They’re very well-established now that they’ve spent so long sorting themselves out. With everyone already conditioned to work together under any circumstances, they’re faring brilliantly where most others may have stumbled and fallen into disarray by now.

 

            Daichi usually doesn’t even have to ask for things to be done anymore. It just kind of happens. By the time he’s finished breakfast, someone’s started washing dishes. The moment the word “laundry” is passed around, all dirty clothes are discarded by a wash basin and a clothesline appears for them to use.

 

            He’s more proud of them now than he’s ever been before. The level of maturity they express lately is something beyond his wildest dreams.

 

            Well, for the most part. There’s still the issue of at least a third of his team members being complete fucking morons, but _that aside_  they’re all very mature and co-operative.

 

            This thought is promptly superseded by a shriek from somewhere beyond the tents and uproarious laughter. He doesn’t want to know. He’s perfectly content to sit here and scrub dirt and blood from clothes and pretend no one is misbehaving and nothing is amiss. Asahi manages to crush his dreams simply by pausing in his work to look questioningly to Daichi. “Um…”

 

            “Yeah. I know. I’m going,” he snaps, throwing the shorts he’s washing into the basin and stalking off to where someone is _still_  laughing – what the hell is even so funny?

 

            Ennoshita is already there. Daichi is nearly as thankful for the existence of Ennoshita Chikara as he is for the existence of Sugawara Koushi. His problem children quartet seem to have Ennoshita's full attention, though, as he frowns deeply at…whatever it is they’re doing.

 

            “Shouyou, why are you sitting on Tobio?” Daichi asks, over the wheezing and giggling from Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Hinata himself.

 

            Said first year is, of course, too busy laughing to answer him. He just shakes his head and takes a deep breath, then doubles over again, clutching at his stomach. “His face…he just…and the _sound_  you made, oh my _god_.”

 

            “…What?” Upon still receiving no direct answer, he turns to Ennoshita for assistance. “Do I need to intervene?”

 

            “I have no idea. Maybe? Probably,” Ennoshita decides, folding his arms across his chest and shrugging. “I only came over her after I heard someone scream, so I’m not entirely sure what happened.”

 

            “Get off me; you weigh a fucking ton, dumbass!” Kageyama barks, reaching up to hit Hinata to the best of his ability, since the latter is perched triumphantly on his back, leaving him sprawled helplessly on the cement with no means of escape. “Dumbaaaaass! Off, off, off! You guys suck so much!!”

           

            Tanaka and Noya are laughing so hard they can barely stand, leaning on each other for support, and when Noya’s knees give they both go tumbling down. Daichi breathes deeply through his nose and exhales heavily from his mouth. He can do this. He can deal with them.

 

            “Chikara…”

 

            “On it!”

 

            Ennoshita leaps forward to separate the second years as Daichi lifts Hinata off of Kageyama and sets him down, slightly calmer, on the roof beside him. It’ll be a miracle if no one is in trouble when he’s done with them. He’s glad they finished cleaning their tents so quickly, but there are definitely better things to be doing after chores than causing a ruckus. When Ennoshita dumps Tanaka and Nishinoya at his feet, he stares down evenly at all of them. “What happened?”

 

            Noya waves a hand enthusiastically in the air, grinning so widely Daichi worries for his jaw. “Okay so, Ryuu and I heard Tobes and Shou walking past the tents and since Ryuu had just finished fixing his bed we hid behind his tent and then Tobio walked past so we jumped out and scared him--”

 

            “And he screamed like a baby and fell down and the look on his face was fucking hilarious, okay. Like…” Tanaka tries to distort his face into whatever godforsaken expression Kageyama had made when he fell, Hinata and Noya eagerly joining in his efforts.

 

            “Screw you guys,” Kageyama hisses. Hinata, the unfortunate fool sitting beside him, gets an elbow to the ribs to make him stop his stupid face-making and giggling.

 

            “Ow! Rude!” he grumbles, rubbing his side as he pouts reproachfully at Kageyama.

 

            Daichi runs a hand through his hair, feeling for the first time in several days how greasy it is. But showers waste so much more water than is entirely necessary. He needs a moment to recollect before he fixes his teammates with a glare. “Are you guys actually four years old?”

 

            “No! I’m, uh…” Hinata actually needs to stop and count on his fingers, scrunching up his face as he thinks. “Hey, I think my birthday is around now, so I’m not sure.”

 

            “That’s not the point, you turd,” Kageyama starts, and if he doesn’t get these two apart soon, Daichi is going to literally just leave the earth altogether for some peace and goddamn quiet.

 

            Breathe deeply. That’s all he needs to do to not start pushing people off the roof. “Shouyou. Go help hang the laundry, please. Tobio, go—“ No, that doesn’t work at all, because even Suga struggles a bit with reaching parts of the clothesline, which means there’s simply no hope for Hinata. “Tobio, _you_  help with the laundry. Shou, go sit in your tent for a while.”

 

            “What!? No fair, I wanna help!” Hinata whines, dropping down to bow at Daichi’s feet. “Please?”

 

            “Go help wash it, then.” Daichi presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose as the first years clamber to their feet and dash toward their respectively assigned stations. That’s half of the problem solved. “You two.” Noya and Tanaka sit up as straight as they can manage, offering sheepish smiles to their captain, who in turn gives them a disappointed look. “Seriously?”

 

            “Sorry. We thought it’d be funny,” Noya says as he rubs the back of his neck. There are so many things wrong with his hair lacking the dumb blonde streak, and all that’s left of it now are faint yellow wisps at the end of his bangs. Daichi finds himself looking to Tanaka instead, if only to avoid having to think about how unnatural that is.

 

            “I’m not saying you can’t have fun. Just that you should think about these things a bit more. You know what they’re like.”

 

            “Um, stupid?” Tanaka quirks a brow as he settles more comfortably on his knees.

 

           Well, yes, but that’s a bit harsh and arguably hypocritical. “They don’t know how to handle themselves, Ryuu. Don’t forget that they’re still kids. We’re in real danger most of the time here, and out of all of us I think those two are the most likely to slip up and get seriously hurt.”

 

            Noya makes a pained sound deep in his throat. “No. They’ll be fine. I know it.”

 

            “You can’t guarantee anything, Yuu,” Daichi tells him, gaze softening sympathetically. “But I’m depending on you to help take care of them and make sure they don’t endanger themselves. Which means, I don’t know, keeping the noise level down. I’m not against fun, but the screaming is a bit much.”

 

            “Will do, captain.” Ryuu gives a sloppy salute, Nishinoya follows suit, and Daichi holds out his hands to help them to their feet.

 

            “Thank you. Now go wait for Hisashi’s patrol to come back.”

 

            Ennoshita only speaks again once they’re gone, splitting off in two directions to wait by the fire escape and fetch the ladder from the supply tent. “What I wouldn’t give to put the blonde back in Yuu’s hair.”

 

            “Hey, no complaining; you’re the one who cuts his hair in the first place. If you wanted it to stay you could’ve avoided that area,” Daichi grins cheekily when the second year rolls his eyes.

 

            “Consider for a moment how ridiculous that would look.”

 

            "Fair point." Shaking his head, he turns on his heel to head back to Suga. “Think you can handle them for a while?”

 

            “I’ve managed this long.”

 

            Kageyama’s already working his way steadily through the clothes Suga has yet to hang, allowing Daichi the satisfaction of stopping Suga in the middle of his work for a kiss. “Whoa. Hello. Problem solved, I take it?” He drapes the shirt he's holding over one arm and kiss him again.

 

            “Indeed. You’re welcome for the extra help, by the way.”

 

            Suga’s look of surprise is completely believable and momentarily baffles Daichi, until he smiles again and murmurs, “Oh, I hadn’t realized you were hanging laundry, too.”

 

            “You know what I mean,” he laughs, leaning in just a bit too close for decency, taking the tiny step forward to close the space between them as his hands find purchase on Suga's hips. Suga's thumb runs over his cheek, sticking slightly because really, they’re both sweaty as all hell with the heat they’ve been living in. He repeats the motion nonetheless, only smiling more broadly when their noses touch.

 

            “Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” Suga breathes, closing his eyes as his hands fall to rest on Daichi’s shoulder.

 

            If he wasn’t red before, he is now. Suga is just unfair sometimes. “You think so?”

 

            “No; haven’t I told you? I only date ugly people.”

 

            He groans exasperatedly, dropping his forehead lightly against Suga's, and tries his damnedest to sound genuinely affronted. “A bully, Koushi. You’re a bully.”

 

            “I know,” he replies, laughing under his breath as he reaches up to pet his hair, which he recalls is disgusting at the moment, and wishes they could just waste that little bit more water on personal hygiene. But it _won’t_  be just a little bit, and he’d rather reek than die of dehydration.

 

            As Suga put it, ‘better safe than sorry.’

 

            He bumps their noses again. “I love you.”

 

            “I love you, too.”

 

            It’s so fucking easy to just forget everything and only exist with Suga. He often leaves behind all thoughts of reality when he has a chance to be affectionate with him, which serves as a brilliant stress reliever. But reality is also a persistent little asshole, and when he kisses Suga he hears Kageyama mutter “gross” behind him.

 

            They’re in broad daylight. In front of the first years. And Asahi. Who might as well be considered a first year anyway.

 

            Sawamura Daichi is the definition of ‘muffled screaming.’ He steps back from Suga to let him continue as he was, with all the enthusiasm of a malnourished animal being dragged away from a perfectly good meal. There are other things to be done besides Suga, as much as he hates to admit it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hgghg I'll post the next chapter pronto (these total to 13 000 words btw so if you wanna know why it took three weeks it is because words).


	8. Strain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer solstice anyone?  
> The poor team needs to unwind a bit. A day of cleaning doesn't count, but a night spent eating until they're full and chatting idly with friends is the perfect solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah yeah this is another sub-stage I'm sorry.  
> If it makes you all feel better, 'Rupture' is next, which is. Y'know. The actual earthquake part of an earthquake.  
> I have nothing to say about this here except cuddles are super important?? And PDA is super...well. At least it's just the team that has to put up w/ Suga and Daichi's gay-ass behaviour.
> 
> (Hhhappy birthday Caroline; you're super cute wow. uwu)

 

* * *

 

            It’s Hinata’s birthday. Yamaguchi just _had_  to have that calendar. Daichi hadn’t realized he’d missed Suga’s birthday until two days after the fact (he’d been equally surprised to hear the news) and he’d gone above and beyond in making it up to him.

 

            But it’s Hinata’s birthday _today_ , and if they’re going to spend a day winding down it might as well be the longest day of the year and the day Hinata won’t shut up about being the oldest first year and blah blah blah. Daichi is too busy playing parent to actually listen anymore.

 

            It’s not a birthday party, not really; everyone’s just been so drained by the heat of late spring that the least Daichi could do is give them an afternoon of freedom. And food. They all made a point of requesting extra rations for this ‘not-a-party party’. A bit of extra food for everyone is something he’s perfectly capable of giving up.

 

            He makes patrols short and sweet. One perimeter patrol, consisting of Kinoshita, Ennoshita, and Asahi. One supply patrol to travel no more than two kilometres away from the building, consisting of Sugawara, Tanaka, and Tsukishima.

 

            He abandons the food he’s attempting to cook while he sees them off, distributing the necessary tools to each team member. At the top of the fire escape, with Tanaka rushing down the steps and Tsukishima already hopping over the wall, he catches Suga’s arm and prevents him from following.

 

            “See you at lunch?”

 

            “Of course,” he grins, kissing his cheek softly. “Don’t burn that. See if Yuu can help or something.”

 

            How very rude. He can totally cook without burning everything. That doesn’t mean it will taste good, but it will still be edible. Daichi huffs as he lets go of him. “You have your bird, right?”

 

            “You know it.” Suga swings one leg over the partition and turns back to him, tugging on a string that hangs from his pocket and withdrawing the little baby crow toy. It’s the cutest damn good luck charm Daichi’s ever seen, if he does say so himself. An opinion that’s not conceited at all. No way. He kisses him on the lips before Suga hops down and lands on the platform with a resounding crash. “See you!”

 

            Daichi just hums as Suga pursue his patrol, watching them all closely until he realizes the food is probably actually burning -- oh _shit_.

 

 *

 

            “This is a miserable bonfire,” Nishinoya muses as he examines the pile of burning sticks, nestled comfortably in a steel basin.

 

            Tanaka gasps and swats his arm. “ _You’re_  a miserable bonfire.”

 

            If he could put muzzles on his friends, for the love of all that is fucking holy…Daichi raises the ax above his head and brings it down on the branch before him to ease his frustration as the playful banter behind him escalates in volume. Any bonfire made with little more than twigs is going to miserable, obviously. That’s why he took Kageyama and Asahi out to get proper wood.

 

            Except now he has to cut the branches they brought back into much, much smaller pieces, and he kind of hates his life a lot right now, what with his arms aching and fingers blistering.

 

            “What _are_  you doing?” Suga asks, making him fumble with the ax and just miss cutting his own leg off. Like he isn’t struggling enough with this already.

 

            He has a chance to pause in his work without looking like a total baby, so he smiles a bit as he lowers the weapon. “Being a spectacular parent.”

 

            “Ah, yes, I’ll start working on your ‘Mom of the Year’ award immediately. Why are you chopping wood?” Suga's got his bangs held back with the same blue bow clip that Noya constantly slips into Asahi’s hair while he’s sleeping (as Daichi recalls, there was a small collection in an apartment they raided last month and his troublesome second years had taken great pleasure in sneaking as many cutesy accessories as possible back to camp with them). His smile grows at the sight.

 

            “Didn’t one of the loudmouths tell you? We’re having a bonfire tonight, too. A small one, of course,” he adds when he sees his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “But who knows how long we’ll be up, so I’m just making sure there’s plenty of wood to burn.”

 

            “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Suga informs him candidly, uncapping the water bottle in his hands and offering it to him. “Why don’t you let me or Asahi take over?”

 

            Daichi places a hand over his heart. “That really makes me feel confident. Thank you so much for believing in me.” It’s all he can do not to start laughing when he takes the water and sips at it. “But it’s fine. I’m almost done anyway. And Asahi would probably cry if I handed him an ax.” Suga could probably finish this task ten times faster than himself, but he's also currently preoccupied with ensuring that everyone cleans up camp and Hinata doesn’t cause too much trouble (because honestly, that’s all Hinata’s been doing today, between tearing a hole in the side of his tent and setting Kageyama’s shirt on fire).

 

            “If you’re sure.” He shrugs and spin round to head back to where Tsukishima is washing the dishes they used to cook. “Keep the water. I don’t want you passing out on me.”

 

            He’s not going to _pass out_. Yeah, it’s sweltering under the afternoon sun, but nowhere near as bad as it was during midday, and he’s not even sweating as much as he has been this past week. That…that might actually be the result of dehydration.

 

            He takes another sip of the water and looks up again in time to see Suga catch Noya and Tanaka by the collars of their shirts and drag them over to help with chores.

 

            So much for a day of relaxation. They’ll probably spend most of tomorrow sleeping to make up for it. And he plans on letting them all off the hook within an hour, anyway, so they’ll still get their freedom.

 

            He’s only just given up on any dreams of being a lumberjack when Yamaguchi hops in front of him, looking simultaneously panicked and excited. “There are people.”

 

            “…What?”

 

            “I was on guard duty and I saw someone come around the corner of the building across the street so I just assumed it was zombies but they’re alive and they have weapons and stuff. Should we talk to them before they go too far?” Yamaguchi’s already shuffling back towards his post, gesturing for Daichi to follow before he does a 180 and sprints off.

 

            He drops the log in his arms and books it after him. People can be bad news, he knows, but anyone who isn’t going to try to eat them on sight is a blessing. And sure enough, there’s a group of five people milling about outside the convenience store just down the street. It’s been empty for months, but they’ll learn that soon enough.

 

            “I’ll be damned.” They definitely have weapons on them, but don’t look like they’ve settled anywhere, if the hulking backpacks are any indication.

 

            “Er…what should we do?”

 

            Daichi would love a chance to meet some new people, but he has yet to formulate any kind of plan for approaching someone outside of the volleyball club. They’ll figure it out later. “Just leave it for now. If they’re still around tomorrow, we’ll see about trying to talk to them.”

 

            He watches as they all disappear through the front door of the shop. Who knows; maybe they’ll just spend the night there and tomorrow, when everyone’s awake and alert, he can take a few people over to see what’s up.

 

            If they’re looking for somewhere to stay, Daichi could use a few extra hands around camp. And maybe a better authority figure than himself.

 

 *

 

 

            Nishinoya asked if they could find alcohol to drink. Daichi’s still laughing at the thought. As if they’ll be fortunate enough to just stumble upon liquor right when they want some. As if Daichi would _let them drink it_.

 

            Twelve drunk guys on a roof sounds like some stupid viral video gone awry. Even if they could find alcohol, Daichi would pour it out without hesitation. None of them have ever gotten drunk before and he has absolutely no desire to know what will happen if he allows for such a thing to happen.

 

            They’re fine with water and food in the end, anyway. The chatter around the bonfire ebbs and flows and occasionally Tanaka will get too excited about a story he’s telling and Ennoshita has to shush him. Daichi listens in on Hinata’s conversation with the other first years and nibbles absently at a melting chocolate bar.

 

            The sun set a while ago, so the only light is from the stars and the fire they all huddle around, casting shadows all across the roof that make him exceedingly nervous. It’s his own fault for dismissing his planned guards from duty tonight (but it would be unfair to exclude anyone from a peaceful night with friends). He closes his eyes in the wake of a cool breeze and feels Suga pluck his chocolate from his grasp.

 

            “Hey. You have your own,” he complains, reaching to take it back, but Suga just breaks a piece off with his teeth and holds it there, grinning invitingly and passing the rest back to him. _How inappropriate_ , he thinks as he leans over to take it back with his own teeth.

 

            Suga lets him off with only a tiny kiss, and fortunately only Kinoshita seems to notice. He looks quickly away when he’s caught staring.

 

            “No, it was definitely in July, because I remember the first time I heard it wasn’t long after my birthday. Plus it wouldn’t have had a chance to get popular if it came out in August,” Hinata declares, tapping his chin and giving the night sky a thoughtful look. “I heard it the first time at the Foothill Store, too.”

 

            “That’s the one that had barely any instrumental, right?” Yamaguchi asks. His fingers are splayed out on his knees as he leans forward and beams at Hinata. “That was my favourite.”

 

            Suga’s cheekbone digs into his shoulder when he shifts to rest against him, so Daichi adjusts his position to accommodate him, draping his arm around his waist. “What are they talking about?”

 

            “Some pop song they heard on the radio last year. Apparently they all liked it.” Daichi tries to shrug, but Sugawara has pushed all of his weight onto him and gone limp, so he only manages a twitch of his shoulders. He can sympathize; he’s pretty damn tired, too.

 

            “Remember we used to dance to the stuff on the radio?” Suga mumbles, shifting over until they share a cushion and even though he's very, very warm, it’s a comfortable kind of warmth, welcome despite the sultry evening.

 

            He wishes they could do that again. So much it hurts. When he tells Sugawara this, he sits up a bit to kiss his jaw. The team is too absorbed with their own conversations and stories and activities to take notice of them now. Daichi catches his chin with his fingers and kisses him properly, earning himself a breathy laugh and a Suga in his lap.

 

            “Love you.”

 

            “Love you, too. _Sugar_.”

 

            “Daichi, oh my god.” He’s not sure if he's reacting to the name or the sudden use of English in front of the kouhai (it's bound draw their attention, which is the exact opposite of what they want right now), but the glaring redness of his cheeks gives him his answer. Good. He wants to keep it, especially if it’s something Suga will blush over, because damn that’s cute to see.

 

            Daichi can’t find it in himself to care when people do start to glance their way. He’d rather just hold Suga and talk to him quietly than shoo their teammates away. He even snorts when Tanaka whispers to Nishinoya (in the way Tanaka ‘whispers’), “If they were any more affectionate they’d become one person.”

 

            It’s only when Asahi falls asleep with his chin still resting on Noya’s head that Daichi decides to call it a night, flipping a second steel basin over the glowing remains of their sad little fire to kill it. He turns on lanterns and flashlights until he’s ushered everyone into their tents, all complaining about humidity or mosquitoes or having to pee, and Daichi bites back the urge to inform them how childish they’re being and keeps the late hour and stress of their lifestyle in mind.

 

            Mostly it’s his four most troublesome who whine, but Asahi shuffles into his tent with a few comments on mosquito bites and he certainly hears ‘It’s too damn hot’ from Narita, leaving him rolling his eyes.

 

            “If you need anything, I’m always here,” Suga is saying to the first years as they help each other into their tents and start searching for their pyjamas, yawning all the while. There’s a negative five percent chance of them being disturbed tonight, since everyone looks like they’re sleeping on their feet (Ennoshita more so than usual, but god knows what would happen if he said that aloud). “Goodnight!” he calls, stepping away from the tents just as the zippers close.

 

            “Night, Suga,” the kids chorus, and Daichi takes it upon himself to bring Suga to their tent, grabbing his hand to walk him back along the row.

 

            He feels a lot less tired than he did earlier. Suga’s moving with more energy as well, and he supposes they don’t really need to sleep quite yet. Not with the freedom of everyone being sound asleep.

 

            He’s right, too; sleep seems to be the last thing on Suga’s mind once they’re alone in their tent.

 

*

 

            “Daichi.”

 

            Daichi doesn’t give half a fuck how alluring Suga sounds, he has not slept long enough to even consider waking up, and informs him of this by yanking his blanket over his head.

           

            “Daichiiii,” he persists, tugging the edge of the fabric down to kiss his forehead. “I made food, and the kids are going to eat it all if you don’t get up.”

 

            God dammit. He’s so hungry, but so tired, and now his brain’s working too much on solving the problem for him to stay sleepy. He moans irately and pushes the blanket off again. “Why do you do this to me?”

 

            “It’s almost noon. Most of the team is awake. What kind of influence is a captain who sleeps all day?”

 

            “A good one. If I sleep all day, they sleep all day, and the world is at peace,” he mutters, dragging the heels of his hands over his eyes.

 

            Suga grabs him by his elbows and pulls him into a sitting position. He takes advantage of the momentum and falls forward to press their lips together. Suga smells very much of mint toothpaste and sugary cereal, an unmistakable contrast to the bitter fuzziness of his own mouth that pervades his senses.

 

            “Good morning to you, too,” Suga hums quietly as he slips a shirt into his hands. “Put clothes on. Food is waiting.”

 

            As though he needs more persuasion to leave the tent when Suga’s on the way out. He yanks on his clothes as fast as humanly possible so he can follow him. _Made food_ , his ass. All everyone’s eating is cereal and leftovers from last night. He accepts the container handed to him nonetheless, and the water bottle that comes with it.

 

            “So,” Suga begins, crouching down to pull a cushion over to the corner of the supply tent and sit on it, “I was thinking of taking a patrol out for a bit today to see what we could do about restocking after how much we ate yesterday.”

 

            He nods slowly. He’d been thinking the same thing. Not that they don’t have plenty of food, but it’s never a bad idea to make sure they’ve got about a month’s worth of supplies so they don’t have to worry. And should they return empty-handed, he’ll just send Tanaka and whoever else is willing out on a hunting patrol instead. “Alright. Any idea who you want with you?”

 

            “Oh, um…Yuu and Asahi?”

 

            “Works for me. You guys can go when we’re done eating, then.” He’s a lot more comfortable with Suga leaving now. He’ll still worry, like any person would, but he can take care of himself.

 

            Suga probably stands a better chance of surviving in a horde than he does.

 

            Kageyama and Hinata are eventually dragged – far from kicking and screaming – over to the rest of the group by Ennoshita and discarded by Kinoshita and Narita. They look ready to go back to sleep until food is placed in their hands. Then they’re wide awake and scarfing it down like they haven’t eaten in a year.

 

            At least Daichi isn’t the one playing first-year-handler today. He makes them wash dishes after breakfast (or…lunch, maybe?), but otherwise Ennoshita keeps an eye on them for him and Suga.

 

            “Would you look at that,” drawls Suga as he tucks a knife into his belt and tugs a backpack over his shoulders. “Scolding the oddball duo all on his own. He’s growing up to be just like you, Daichi.”

 

            “Anyone has the right to scold those two. Especially since they just spilt a whole basin of water,” he reasons, following them to where Asahi and Nishinoya are preparing to hop the wall and make their way into the city.

 

            Suga punches his arm and laughs. “I’m only teasing, you doofus.”

 

            “I know, I know.” Daichi rubs his arm and huffs at the burst of pain. “But I have something important to tell you three.”

 

            “Ooh, important stuff. Secret mission. Hell yeah.” Nishinoya skids to a halt between Sugawara and Daichi and salutes exuberantly. “I’m ready for anything.”

 

            Why did Suga have to choose the two biggest goofballs on the team for a patrol? Daichi shakes his head and waves off Noya’s salute. “It’s not a secret mission. I’m going to tell everyone else later anyway. I just want to make sure you guys know that there were people in the convenience store down the street last night, so be careful around there. Just in case. I’m going to take someone with me later to check it out and see if they want to talk.” He’d be letting them use the fire escape if he weren’t worried about how these people might react to their presence. It’s too close to the store for comfort.

 

            “Ooh, secret people. Hell yeah!”

 

            “Yuu, I swear to _god_ …”

 

            Nishinoya chortles gleefully and leaps onto the ladder just as Daichi reaches out to grab him. He ends up having to grab the ladder to prevent Noya from dragging it down. “Avoid the convenience store until further notice. Got it.” He starts down the rungs without so much as a backwards glance.

 

            “Good luck,” Daichi sighs, holding onto Suga’s hand as he makes to climb down behind Asahi.

 

            “Of course.” Suga kisses him, squeezes his hand, and then he's gone, creeping down after their teammates.

 

            Well, Daichi’s got a pretty boring day ahead of him, then, since all the major cleaning was taken care of yesterday and Ennoshita has taken the first year problem into his own hands. Or, maybe a better way to look at it is that he can relax properly today.

 

            Tidying up the tent and finding a book to read sounds like a fine idea. Once Suga’s patrol returns, he’ll determine whether or not a hunting patrol is necessary and then inform the rest of the team of their new neighbours. He’s still not sure how to approach them, or if he should do so at all.

           

            Actually, a vote doesn’t sound like a terrible idea in this situation. He’ll see what everyone else wants to do and go from there. Perfect.

 

           That issue resolved for the time being, he ducks into his tent to clean whatever mess there might be. Nothing, really, aside from the rumpled blankets and the disarray of the pillows, though he honestly suspects that may be due more to his restless sleeping habits than his and Suga’s nighttime activities. He drags the blankets out of the tent to air them for a few minutes.

 

            Suga’s little crow charm rolls out of them. Daichi can’t help but smile as he picks it up. They’ve twisted red and white thread together and tied it to the crow for easier transportation. He and Sugawara have a habit of giving each other as many gifts as possible, from flowers to clothes to little trinkets salvaged from toyboxes in abandoned homes, but Daichi’s quite sure that this is Suga’s favourite from him. And he’s glad to know that.

 

            Still grinning, he pockets the bird and continues as he was.

 

*

 

            Daichi dangles his feet over the edge of the roof as he waits. Well, watches. He’s technically on guard duty right now, but all he’s really doing is sitting by the rope ladder waiting for the patrol to return.

 

            Tanaka’s talked the rest of the team into a game of tag, which Daichi supposes is good for the spirit, if the not-so-quiet laughter and frantic stomping behind him says anything. There’s something distracting them, the direct result of that being no trouble for Daichi today. And they’ll wear themselves out. He’ll have to hug Tanaka later.

 

            He has a book in his lap, something he doesn’t even know the plot or title of because he’s paid literally no attention to it. It’s still open to page one. He keeps his eyes on the field and the part of the alley that’s visible from where he sits.

 

            The first word of the novel is ‘In.’ This is progress. Now the first sentence would be much clearer if he actually looked at the damn paper. ‘In’ what? ‘In the beginning, there was an angel named Koushi.’ ‘In life, there will be bratty children who look to you for guidance.’ ‘In the past, everyone was properly happy.’

 

            Daichi sighs and snaps the book shut at the same time someone curses in the alley, shrilly and breathlessly. The next thing he hears is cacophony.

 

            It’s muted, for a few seconds – the distinguished moans of the undead. But when Nishinoya hurtles around the corner, flanked by Asahi and Suga, it becomes a roar. There’s at least twenty, and each member of the patrol looks as if they’ve been running for a good ten minutes. The book plummets several storeys, hitting the ground at the same time Daichi’s hands close around the top of the ladder.

 

            “Chikara!” he yells; the second year appears at his side instantly, grabbing the other side before Daichi even has to ask him to.

 

            He’s not sure he’s breathing at all right now. Hordes are some scary shit to deal with, even for someone who isn’t down on the ground with them. His teammates have a few metres on them, though. If they get on the ladder without issue, there will be no need to worry. Zombies aren’t exactly skilled climbers.

 

            It alleviates the frantic feeling boiling in his chest when Nishinoya clears the pile of junk into two swift bounds and catches the ladder on the sixth rung. He’s halfway up by the time Suga even touches it. Asahi’s just a little ways behind, knife in hand as he scrambles onto the first crate and the zombies behind him close in.

 

            They’ll be fine. They’ll be perfectly fine if Azumane Asahi would just get his ass in gear and start climbing the damn stupid ladder, but he’s freezing up with it in reach. “Dammit, Asahi, climb!” Daichi screams as Noya tumbles past him onto the roof. He doesn’t waste a second in standing up to look at what’s happening on the ground.

 

            “He’s scared,” Noya murmurs, like that isn’t the most obvious thing in the world, and his eyes fill with tears. “Shit, I should’ve let him go up first.”

 

            Daichi is not fucking losing Asahi today. Not his best friend. Suga’s so much more than that, yes, but he's safe on the ladder while Asahi is seconds away from death and _why does he have to be such a baby sometimes_?

 

            He’s not going to panic. He’s not going to panic. There are zombies trying to kill his friend but he’s going to remain as calm as possible and everything will be fine. Suga drops down from the ladder and pushes Asahi to it, urging him up as the first monster reaches the mess of junk and stumbles upward.

 

            Daichi does not want to watch this. Suga makes to climb again (Daichi braces himself to support the weight of two people on the ladder) and one of the zombies reaches out to grab them and Asahi’s in the way. He can’t see what happens.

 

            It isn’t until Asahi is further up the ladder that Daichi is sure Suga’s there behind him, climbing hurriedly as the writhing mass below them tugs insistently at the bottom of the rope.

 

            Daichi could puke from relief. He’s aware of the presence of the rest of the team behind him, crowding curiously, but with Asahi’s appearance they back up a bit to create room for him. Nishinoya tackles him with a hug and starts crying and apologizing onto his shoulder.

 

            Suga goes from the top of the ladder straight into Daichi’s arms, looking considerably shaken for someone so strong. “Daichi,” he gasps, wrapping his arms around him and tipping forward so that Daichi has to support both of them on trembling legs. “Daichi.”

 

            “Dammit, don’t do that to me. You almost gave me a heart attack.” He hopes his voice didn’t just crack the way he thinks it did. He can’t hold Suga tightly enough. His heart hammers in his throat and – god, thank god, he's okay, he's with him.

 

            He’s only faintly aware of the team dispersing slowly, of the ladder being rolled up and taken away, of Suga still chanting his name. He just marvels at the feeling of Suga in his arms.

 

            There are still a few people around, he realizes, when Hinata interrupts his serenity with a tentative, “Um…”

 

            Could he just not be bothered for, like, two goddamn minutes? Daichi raises his head to look at Hinata, who points downward.

 

            “Suga, you’re bleeding.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said there was more fluff than angst. I never said there wouldn't be any horrible, heart-wrenching angst. Lol.
> 
> Until next time! <3


	9. Rupture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi's convinced himself that Sugawara is immortal and he has to think, for a while, about how stupid that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for gore I guess. It's nothing particularly bad but idk it might make people uncomfortable so just be aware. More notes at the end of the chapter because that's when you'll want to see them. Have fun <3
> 
> Alternatively titled: Probably More Parentheses Than Is Entirely Necessary.

* * *

 

               Hinata’s right. Not that Daichi suspects he might be lying. It just comes as a bit of a surprise to look down and find that Suga is, indeed, bleeding.

           Not badly, at least. There’s a ragged tear in his faded jeans, right over his calf, which peeks through the fabric as a deep scrape with blood welling lazily from it. Daichi feels the harshness of his frown as he kneels to inspect the wound, and doesn’t even bother to fight it.

           “What happened?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the torn denim and pulling it aside carefully, so as not to disturb Suga’s injury, or injure him any further. It looks, really, as if he just backed into something sharp, but Daichi knows that even a small injury like this poses a threat: there’s the risk of infection, primarily. Of not knowing what even caused it, or what was on it, or where it has been, and then consequently not knowing what might happen or – god forbid – how to fix it.

           He doesn’t catch what Suga says the first time, too absorbed in reaching out to wipe at the blood that’s starting to run down his leg. It’s when he asks what he said that Suga reaches down and grabs his wrist before his fingers can make contact with his blood; he fixes him with a look that’s less a glare and more a plea for help (there’s still a trace of anger in it; a warning, even).

           “I got bit.”

           Now is not a time to be dicking around; he needs to know what happened so he can start figuring out what precautions are to be taken. “Koushi, seriously—“

           “Daichi, _seriously_ , the…the one grabbed me on the ladder and tried to bite me but it’s teeth just scraped my leg and. And it’s going to turn me, isn’t it? Oh my god.” There’s little more in his voice than raw fear and Daichi’s head goes numb for a second.

           That’s exactly everything that Daichi never ever wants to happen. He pulls himself to his feet and steadies himself with his hands on Suga’s shoulders, turning a scrutinizing gaze to his face. Daichi knows Suga better than anyone in the world. He knows how to read him by the tone of his voice rather than his words, knows how to tell how he's feeling by the slightest movement. He knows what upsets him the most and how to make him happiest.

           He knows that he's not lying.

           “No…”

           “Daichi, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” His teeth press down so deeply on his lower lip that it turns white.

           That’s not fair. Suga can’t turn. Not after they’ve managed to survive this long. Not after Daichi has come to rely on him so much. And it’s unhealthy, he knows, his dependency, but he can’t help it.

           He can’t live without him.

           But what is there to be done? He's been bitten, and the whole team knows what happens when someone is bitten. Daichi can’t pretend they’ve imagined it.

           He doesn’t know what to do besides cry. He’s going to let himself break in front of whoever is still lingering nearby, and frankly he couldn’t care less.

           Then Ennoshita is pushing him out of the way, more persistent than Daichi thinks he’s ever seen him, tugging Suga’s face round to look at him more closely. He hums and crouches to examine the wound. “Don’t panic. I think we can stop this. I mean, no guarantees, but…we can try, right?”

           “Y-yeah, we can try,” Daichi agrees, clearing his throat and latching on to Suga all over again. He's started to tremble, like the inevitability of his death is a cold thing, and unless Ennoshita knows exactly what he’s doing, that’s just what it will be: inevitable. (He prays that Ennoshita knows what he’s doing.)

           “We need the ax. Probably a few blankets, too. A lot of bandages. Oh, we might need to cauterize the wound. So a knife, and the stove.”

           Well, that sounds pretty fucking horrible, all things considered. He sees Tanaka and Hinata leap into action and stares questioningly at Ennoshita for a moment. He’s just about to ask why they need weapons when his brain offers the most obvious explanation, making the colour drain from his face. “Oh no, we’re not gonna…”

           “Yes, we are. Sorry, Daichi, but if I remember anything from Ryuu’s shows and games, it’s that an infected limb needs to be removed as soon as possible.” Ennoshita straightens up and pats his shoulder, offering an apologetic look. “That is, if it’s okay with you, Suga?”

           Sugawara doesn’t seem to really register anything at first. Then he blinks and looks from the space behind Daichi to Ennoshita, eyebrows shooting up. “Sorry, what was that?”

           Before Ennoshita can open his fool mouth and say something that might make Suga upset, Daichi takes over. “Koushi, we’re going to try to remove your leg to stop you from turning, okay? I’ll give you painkillers beforehand to help. You’ll be fine, I swear.”

           With all the grace of deer on ice, Tanaka and Hinata return to them with their arms full of the requested supplies. They bump into each other one final time and drop it all at Ennoshita’s feet. Suga continues to stare at Daichi with something reminiscent of resignation and hesitation in his eyes, his hands coming up to grab Daichi's shirt and use it as an anchor. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

           It’s not, really, and the grip he has on his shirt says that much, but he’d rather Suga lose a limb than die. “Ryuu, get me something to use as a tourniquet. Shouyou, go find the strongest painkillers we have and bring them over with water,” he orders.

           He definitely can’t let Hinata be around when they actually take the leg off. Daichi’s not even sure he wants to be there himself, but he wouldn’t trust anyone else with that ax near Suga’s body.

           Holy _fuck_ , he has to chop off his leg with an ax. He goes limp against Suga as the realization strikes, dropping his arms to encircle his waist. “It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbles into his hair.

           Suga nods dubiously. Daichi’s going to hate himself a lot more than he already does soon. It’s going to anything but okay, if he has to hurt Sugawara. Hinata is pushing a bottle of painkillers into his hand the second he lets go of Suga, passing a water bottle to him, and Daichi can see how fretful he is without having to really think about it. He places his free hand flat on Hinata’s upper back and nudges him in the direction of the tents.

           “Go tell everyone to stay in their tents for a while. You, too. You don’t need to see this.”

           He doesn’t miss the relief on Hinata’s face when he nods and scurries off to hide.

           “Oh, and send Yuu here, please.” He has a feeling he’ll be needing more than just Tanaka and Ennoshita holding Suga down for this process.

           The world is kind of hazy and grey while he gives Suga the recommended dosage of painkillers and keeps trying and trying to stall, his heart burning out of his chest and his eyes burning more with each passing moment. He already feels the first furious strains of an oncoming headache by the time he’s managed to help Suga lie down on a blanket behind the protrusion of the stairwell. It’s best they keep this hidden from everyone as well as they can.

           Surprisingly enough, it’s Tanaka who stoops down and tucks a pillow under Sugawara’s head, obviously focused on ensuring their comfort. It’s the most they can do, Daichi supposes, and he despises this day of his life that much more. “I’m sorry, Koushi, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles when Suga gives him a desolately frightened look.

           Suga, true to his nature, immediately smiles compunctiously. Daichi wants to cry knowing that he's worried more for him than he is for himself. “It’s alright.”

           For the first time in Daichi’s memory, it isn’t a sexual thing when he removes Suga’s pants. He feels bad about that, too – leaving him in his underwear in front of their teammates. But that’s the least of anyone’s concerns right now.

           With Tanaka’s assistance and probably the shittiest, brittlest twig that could’ve possibly found its merry way to this godforsaken roof, he manages to cut off the blood flow to Suga’s leg about his upper thigh with a pitiful tourniquet. They’re fortunate enough that the twig doesn’t break. ‘Small victories’ is about all he can think. He can’t risk him losing too much blood.

           (He can’t really risk losing _him_ , either, but he’s already failing in that field.)

           He knows he’s taking his sweet-ass time. His reluctance to hurt Suga is on the verge of outweighing his desperation to keep him alive and well. Suga fidgets anxiously on the blanket, grimacing at the pressure on his right leg, while Daichi stares at the ax in his hands with apparent apprehension. And stares.

           Even when Nishinoya tumbles around the corner of the stairwell enclosure, his concentration isn’t broken. He kind of wishes he could give himself a mental pep talk or something to make up for wasting time, but all he’s doing is worrying and worrying and –

           “Daichi,” Ennoshita says carefully, placing a placating hand on his shoulder.

           He _knows_ , he fucking knows, he’s just scared. He’s just a kid with a stick and Suga’s some celestial being he’s fallen in love with and been ordered to kill but he swallows his fear and nods. “Ryuu, Yuu, hold his legs down. Chikara, his arms, please.”

           Noya seems to comprehend the situation instantaneously, eyes darkening as he nods and kneels to hold Suga's leg still. He avoids looking at Tanaka as well as he can, frowning when their eyes do meet and looking down right away.

           Daichi wants to ignore the way Suga attempts to hide his own fear with unnerving calm, allowing himself to be pinned to a blanket and tortured without a single word. Daichi feels, somewhere in his gut, how petrified he is, how just trying to speak might break the spell that’s helping him keep his composure. He has to rub at his eyes briefly before he lifts the ax above his head.

           Might as well get it over with fast.

           Suga’s whole body jerks violently when the blades pierces his skin, his mouth opening to scream before Ennoshita’s hand flies up to muffle it, leaving his right arm free to reach out for his leg defensively. Within seconds, his arm is pushed roughly back against the blanket and a piece of the sheet torn up for the tourniquet is forced into his mouth. He needs _something_  to bite down on, and if the fabric will help prevent the rest of the team from overhearing, then Daichi won’t complain.

           Saying ‘sorry’ out loud seems insincere, but he repeats it in his head while he lifts the ax a second time and watches blood seep into the blanket. This time, when he hits his target, Suga’s face scrunches up and tears burst forth from his eyes, accompanied by another muted scream and a slightly less pronounced jolt.

           He’d rather die than keep this up.

           There’s a disturbing crunch with the next swing. Suga looks like he'd rather die, too, and Daichi doesn’t expect forgiveness from him at all. Ever. It’s okay if he never wants to speak to him again, though – as long as Suga's alive, Daichi's sure he’ll be okay. He has to be okay. His fingers tighten around the handle and he trembles a bit before making the wound in Suga’s leg deeper. It’s a damn good thing he has good enough aim to not maim him beyond what he intends.

           Tanaka has his eyes squeezed shut resolutely and Chikara’s knuckles are white around Suga’s wrists but Daichi concentrates on his own task, bloody and awful as it may be. When the feels the blade hit the cement under the blanket instead of skin or bone, he brings it down one final time to ensure all connection is lost and there’s no way for the virus to travel into the rest of Suga’s body. Tanaka, hands around the shin and calf, tug it away and out of sight so that Suga doesn’t have to see it.

           There’s still cauterization to be taken care of, and Ennoshita’s already moved to heat the knife over the flame of the portable stove, so Daichi drops the ax where he stands and staggers over to kneel by Suga’s head, drawing it into his lap as Suga shakes and whimpers and weeps.

           “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry,” he croaks, hands closing over his tear-streaked face and thumbs running soothingly over his cheeks. He makes sure his grasp is firm because he can see Ennoshita approaching in his peripheral vision. He fixes the gag as discreetly as possible, but Suga doesn’t seem to be comprehending much at all, anyway. He just stares into space and breathes deeply and raggedly through his nose, trembling all the while, occasionally focusing on Daichi’s face for a split second before drifting from reality again.

           When the blazing blade touches down on the still-profusely-bleeding stump of his thigh, Daichi sees real agony in his eyes as his teeth clamp down on the sheet and he tries to suppress yet another wail. It’s his turn to stare into space now. He can’t handle watching Suga while he's hurting and not being able to do anything to stop it.

           Suga tries to crane his neck to look down at what Ennoshita’s doing, but Daichi holds his head firmly in place. “It’s okay; you’re okay,” he lies, still not risking looking at him. The knife touches down again, and again, and he's definitely bleeding less now; the pain is probably greater than the benefits, though.

           Daichi doesn’t even want to imagine how having a wound melted shut feels.

           Suga’s been reduced to whining and twitching feebly as he's held down and hurt, and Daichi is, quite frankly, disgusted with himself for allowing this to happen. He tries to comfort him, but Suga's too fixated on pain to register his words, and he’s not surprised by that, not at all.

           It’s only when Ennoshita moves to work around the protruding bit of bone (sealing the wound there as well as he can), and Suga’s eyes roll back in his head as he shrieks, that Daichi  so much as glances at his face, only to find him falling still again. Very still. His head lolls to the side in his loosened grip, his eyes fall closed, and Daichi’s heart skips a beat.

           He can’t die. Daichi can’t let him die. He doesn’t even consider that he might have just fainted. He gapes at him and he doesn’t know what to do because it felt, for a moment, like he'd completely given up on staying alive.

           His chest rises faintly. He tugs the fabric from Suga's mouth and watches intently as he breathes, trying to control his own breathing and _not hyperventilate, for god’s sake_. That scared the _fuck_  out of him, but no one seemed to notice. They’re busy wiping Suga’s leg clean and stopping the flow of blood, too caught up in their world of amputation to think about what’s happening to the rest of his body. Tanaka’s looking unnaturally pale, Daichi notes dazedly, pressing his fingers to Suga’s throat to feel his strained pulse as he watches his friends fret.

           As long as he's alive. That’s what matters. He keeps his hand where it is until everything is over with, and he’s reluctant to move even once Ennoshita’s informed him that the wound has been sealed. He nods dumbly and leans further over Suga, moving his hand to rest over his heart.

           “You know how to bandage it properly?” he asks, still battling  the sudden weakness in his limbs that’s working to make him collapse on the spot.

           “I…think so, yeah.” Ennoshita already has gauze in his hand, sending a tentative smile Daichi’s way as he unrolls it. As though he hopes to calm him. But after the panic of thinking, even just uncertainly and briefly, that Suga had died, he’s as calm as the situation allows. (Which isn’t actually all that calm, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to puke and his trachea feels like it’s in a knot. Or six. Who’s really counting when just breathing normally takes complete concentration?)

           The subject of death, despite Daichi’s newfound peace, hangs in the air in much the same way a thick and roiling smoke from a forest fire might. Threateningly, for one. Tanaka and Nishinoya are so uncharacteristically quiet that it’s frightening, and Ennoshita’s skin has taken on an unnatural greyish colour.

           Daichi doesn’t want to take the risk of inhaling that smoke, so Ennoshita takes it for him, fitting the last bit of gauze into place and making sure it’s held firmly in place by medical tape as he sends his captain worried looks. “Daichi. If he stops breathing, you know—“

           “Of course I know.” He sounds a lot less agonized than he feels. His hand presses down harder where it rests on Suga’s chest, moving closer to the reassuring _tump-tump_  of his heartbeat and giving him a better awareness of his lungs expanding and contracting with each tiny breath he takes. “I know. It’ll be fine, though.”

           "We need time to know if he'll really be fine. I don't know if this virus spreads like others do, but if that's the case then it might be hours or...or _days_ before we can be sure. If just one --" he cuts himself off there, with the fierce look Daichi gives him. It crumbles easily, though, and his captain only nods solemnly.

           "I know," he repeats, dropping his gaze again.

           His teammates back off now that everything’s settled (as much as it can be), so he lifts Suga gingerly into his arms to take him to their tent. He’s met with no resistance, so he assumes Ennoshita is finished playing doctor for the time being. He knows to expect a checkup or something stupid like that soon enough, though. The ax taunts him with a splattered scarlet smile. His stomach twists disconcertingly.

           It’s only for a brief moment that Daichi considers laying Suga down among the pillows and blankets and leaving him there. A very stupid moment, too. He kicks everything into a pile and sits against it, drawing his knees up and apart enough to let Suga lie between them. Suga's head flops back on one knee and Daichi carefully maneuvers his remaining leg underneath his own, turning himself into a protective barrier around him.

           Even though he's unconscious, he does whatever he can to make him comfortable; tucks a pillow between Suga's head and his knee, another under the stump of his right leg, and drapes a blanket over as much of him as he can.

           Now he’s left to deal with the torture of wondering whether or not he'll wake up, which is fucking brutal because wondering means imagining all the worst possibilities and his heart is crumpling more the longer he sits there with Suga cradled in his lap and completely unresponsive. Trying to think about other things results in spectacular failure as his mind immediately turns from Sugawara dying to him _hurting him intentionally_  and what he must have felt and god – god, he is _such_  an asshole.

           He has no idea how long he sits there like that, but eventually he just becomes numb to the vicious emotions that permeate his every thought and loses himself in his own head, fingers combing absently through Suga’s hair.

           

*

 

           Asahi comes by some time later, pale with guilt and teary-eyed.

           “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, like it’s a secret that he blames himself for everything, like he can’t bear anyone else knowing that he’s at fault for Suga getting hurt. He can’t seem to look Daichi in the eye – completely avoids looking at Sugawara, who’s sleeping soundly with his head now planted firmly against Daichi’s shoulder.

           He can’t say, honestly, that Asahi had nothing to do with this. It was his hesitation that led Suga to endanger his life, after all. But he can’t bring himself to betray his best friend’s emotions like that. He shakes his head, all uncertainty and gloom, and sighs. “I’m not gonna say you’re innocent here, but I doubt Koushi will let you even try to blame yourself for this. He's the one who stepped off the ladder. Just come back later to apologize to him. I’m sure he'll just say the same, though.”

           Asahi gradually lets his gaze fall to Suga, something not unlike fear overwhelming his features. “He’ll be okay?”

           ‘Yes,’ Daichi wants to say, because if he demands that it be true then surely it will be. But he’s unsure. It feels like it’s been several hours since they entered the tent, and Suga’s barely even stirred, hasn’t really made a sound apart from the occasional gasping breath, and Daichi just doesn’t know what to believe. He stares at him and wills him to wake up, swiping a stray hair from his forehead with his thumb. “I hope so,” he tells Asahi. “I really hope so.”

           It’s silent for a few seconds as they both watch Suga and wonder whether or not hope is dangerous right now. Asahi opens his mouth and Daichi can sense the apology before he’s even made a sound.

           “Don’t.”

           “…Huh?”

           “Don’t apologize again. Just…go see if everyone’s okay or something. Maybe tell Chikara that we’re still fine and we don’t need him by anytime soon.” Daichi fidgets with the blanket draped over Sugawara for a moment. “We’re fine.”

           He doesn’t know why he bothers. No matter what anyone says to him, Asahi will never forgive himself for Suga almost dying.

           The former ace bows slightly and backs out of the tent, chewing on his lip as he goes; Daichi settles back against the nest he’s made and loops an arm defensively around Suga's waist.

          It’s easier to be alone right now. The fragility of his emotions is best kept secret (not that it’s an unreasonable thing, or that the team won’t notice anyway, or he can actually keep them to himself much longer). He sighs heavily and closes his eyes.

 

*

 

           He’s drawn from his thoughts by the feeling of a hand bumping softly against his chest, right above his heart, and he tears his gaze away from nothingness to look down at Suga. Who, in turn, smiles weakly up at him.

           An aching fire of exuberance appears in his gut and climbs straight to his throat, burning it until his vision blurs with tears. God, he's awake. He's okay. Daichi's so relieved that it hurts.

           “Hey,” Suga says drowsily, and he still hasn’t moved his hand so Daichi takes his wrist and pulls his knuckles to his lips and tries not to think about days when that fist met his chest with enough force to knock the breath out of him, standing in gymnasiums, surrounded by a happy team, because he doesn’t want to hurt any more than he already is.

           “Hey,” he responds, and his voice sounds pitiful and he hates it. He clears his throat. “Careful, there. My heart’s not doing so well right now.”

           It’s true; it feels like his heart currently has the structural integrity of a wet paper towel.

           “Sorry about that,” Suga says with a tiny, impish smile. His fingers curl slowly outwards to caress Daichi's cheek and the tears spill over and he thinks he might be a little bit dead inside but maybe a little bit too alive. Sugawara Koushi is _okay_  and his whole body is disconnecting from reality.

           He clings to his hand and shakes. “I’m so sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I love you. I never want to hurt you again.”

           Suga’s thumbs rub at his cheeks and smudge his tears away as he hunches over and bawls. This is so backwards. Suga’s probably in pain and here he is, crying because he feels guilty. Because he is guilty, really. He wasn’t given much of a choice, but he still found it in himself to put Suga through that.

           Inhaling deeply to steady himself, he intertwines his fingers with Suga’s and kisses his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

           He doesn’t respond for a few moments, so Daichi reaches down until one hand hovers over the stump of his thigh. It must hurt still. It might never stop hurting. He doesn’t dare put pressure on it, but the presence of his hand alone has Suga looking curiously to the clearly empty space under the blanket.

           “I…Uh, kinda tired, I guess. But otherwise, I think I’m okay.”

           Daichi stretches his arm out to drag the bag from the corner closer. After a few seconds of rummaging, he produces a dented water bottle from its depths and twists the cap off. “Drink something,” he demands, but it lacks any real force.

           Suga complies nonetheless, sipping delicately at the water for a few moments and passing it back to Daichi. “How late is it?”

           God, he doesn’t even know. Late enough that the light outside the tent is dusky and grey and the air is cooling rapidly. He shrugs. “Twilight, I guess?”

           After a few moments of consideration, Suga hums thoughtfully. “You’ve been here this whole time?”

           “Yeah. I have.” He has no need to feel embarrassed about it, he knows, but he can’t help the little bit of heat that rises to his cheeks. It isn’t odd that he wanted to watch over him, is it? A change of subject seems in order, given the fact that he’s about ready to die of heat stroke with the knowing (and maybe adoring) smile Suga is giving him. “Did you, ah, want more painkillers?” he mumbles, clearing his throat and looking away when Suga chuckles.

           The laughter fades quickly, however, and he shifts a bit and looks down again. Daichi watches unease darken his eyes as he purses his lips. “I think I’m okay for now.”

           He sighs and rifles around for the medication he could’ve sworn was left somewhere by the tent door, cautious of the stump of a leg. Which suddenly shifts, startling him back into a proper sitting position (or as proper as it can be, with another person occupying the space between his legs _in absolutely the least sexual manner conceivable_ ).

           He grimaces and lifts it again, observing the blanket as it droops downwards, nothing there to support it.

           “Koushi…”

           “It’s weird,” he decides, but the strained look in his eyes says a lot more than just that.

           Daichi carefully maneuvers his face to an angle where he can’t stare anymore, where he's just looking at him, and frowns. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m getting you painkillers. Just sit still.”

           Suga gives him a watery half-smile and flops down with his ear over his heart. Daichi keeps an arm around him while he digs the bottle out from under the edge of the blanket nest, holding him in place. Like pretending he isn’t in pain is going to get him anywhere. Honestly.

           “Sorry.”

           He tips a few pills into his hand and gives them and the water to Suga. “Ridiculous,” he repeats, swooping in to kiss his beauty mark once he's done swallowing the pills. He expects a ‘But you love me’ in return, but is met with silence and a contemplative look from him instead. “What’s wrong?”

           “I mean it. That I’m sorry. For scaring you and almost dying and now, of course, I probably won’t be much use to anyone, so I’m sorry in advance for being a burden.”

           Daichi exhales heavily and rests his hand atop his head, rubbing slowly at his scalp to soothe him. “You’ll never be a burden, _sugar_. Don’t forget that.”

           Suga relaxes under his touch almost immediately, slumping against him even more so than he was before, and nods marginally. He probably isn’t even really listening to him, but Daichi doesn’t mind. He’s still too elated to have him awake and alert and alive in his arms too care about minor things like that.

           They fall into comfortable silence after that, and by the time Suga speaks again , the sun has set and Daichi has turned the flashlight on. “Thank you,” he breathes; Daichi doesn’t know what he's thanking him for, can’t think of anything he’s done in the past few hours that warrants gratefulness in any degree.

           Not killing him without first trying to save him might be an answer, but he should know by now that Daichi could never in a million years even consider killing him, no matter what the circumstances.

           “I don’t mean for cutting my leg off. Well, yeah, thanks for that because I didn’t want to turn into a zombie, but I mean way before that. For just being there, and being a good friend and boyfriend, and staying with me through everything.” He furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head back to look him in the eye, pulling the blanket closer around himself. “I thought about that when I got bit. That I hadn’t ever really said thank you for you sticking with me.”

           “Koushi,” Daichi begins, but he isn’t sure how to continue. He doesn’t need to express gratitude for him being a decent human being. There doesn’t need to be a reward for acting like a good friend. Suga starts up again before he can even think of how to respond.

           “Also that I love you. A lot. Maybe too much. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” He clutches at his arm with all his strength, practically hugging it, and squeezes his eyes shut. “I love you so much. Please don’t ever die.”

           It’s ironic, but Daichi isn’t about to complain. He’s the one who almost lost Suga today and here Suga is begging him not to die. He curls downward to rest their foreheads together (it just about breaks his back but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he just wants Sugawara to keep smiling). “Same goes for you, okay?”

           Suga kisses him then, and he feels like maybe everything will be okay, in the end.

 

*

 

           When Suga tells Daichi that his leg is cold, he asks what he means. He points to his thigh and says, “I don’t really know. It just feels really cold and uncomfortable. It might just be because it’s gone. I don’t know.”

           When Daichi brings his hand near his skin, it’s radiating heat.

           He scowls and feels his forehead, surprised to find it perfectly cool in comparison. He doesn’t know what will happen if it’s infected in some way. But he tries not to show too much concern, so as not to frighten Suga.

           “Let me know if anything else happens. And if you need more painkillers.” When he agrees, Daichi relaxes his shoulders a bit and calls quietly for Ennoshita, who he knows has been wandering around outside their tent pretty much all evening.

           It’s a surprise to have Tanaka poking his head through the door. “I sent him to bed before he killed himself with worry. What’s up, captain? How are you feeling, Suga?”

           “I’m okay, thank you,” Suga offers, ever the sweet angel, and he even sits up a bit straighter to  make sure that Tanaka doesn’t doubt him.

           Daichi presses his hand against his shoulder to encourage him to relax. “Could you grab some food? Maybe something light for now.” He’ll need bigger meals soon, since he's lost a lot of blood and needs to recover, but he isn’t going to risk getting him sick with too much food right now.

           “Sure thing!” Tanaka bows and disappears into the night, the zipper snapping closed behind him.

           “He needs sleep, too,” Suga murmurs, falling back along with Daichi’s hand. Daichi decides that it would be in his best interest not to point out the fact that most of the team is still awake, and he’s heard them moving around and talking for hours.

           “It’s fine; I’ll make sure he gets to bed eventually. Focus on yourself for now. You have recovering to do.”

           He hums and makes to resettle himself, face contorting with discomfort the moment he moves his legs.

           “What’s wrong?”

           “Nothing. It just feels weird still.” Suga waves him off and draws a blanket over his shoulders, turning his attention completely on him. “I’m fine.”

           If he's fine, Daichi is a fish. He’s offering him painkillers before he's finished talking, and Suga doesn’t hesitate to take them. It really shouldn’t be hard to just ask for them, but for once in his life he has no idea what’s happening in Suga’s head, so he’ll have to play guessing games for a while.

           Tanaka returns with a box of cereal, loudly announcing that he’s the best at this job, even though it’s sort of half empty.

           “Anything else?” he asks, looking eager to be of use to his beloved captain and vice captain, but Daichi shakes his head.

           “That’s all for now. Thanks, Ryuu.”

           He’s disturbingly upbeat for someone obviously weighed down with concern for his friend’s well-being. Still, Daichi doesn’t comment on this as he waves and takes off again, presumably to lounge around camp and fret with everyone else.

           “Froot Loops?” Suga shakes the box a bit as he holds it up for Daichi to take some. “They’re not so stale that they aren’t edible,” he adds.

           Admittedly, he’s kind of ravenous right now, seeing as he hasn’t eaten since midday and hasn’t stopped overthinking things for several hours. He takes a handful and starts eating them one at a time.

           “Did you re-organize while I was gone?” Suga asks suddenly, and Daichi nods.

           “Yeah, I took everything out of the tent and cleaned a bit.” He gasps when he remembers that he has something of Suga’s still. “Your bird. It was in the blankets. Here.” Fumbling a bit because of the odd angle he’s sitting at and the fact that one of his hands is already full, it takes him a few long moments to actually rescue the crow from his pocket, but Suga laughs a bit when he gives it to him.

           “Well, you would’ve been much more useful as a good luck charm if I actually had you with me, eh?” He rubs his forefinger over the worn fabric on its head before setting it by the door. “Of course I’d get bit the one day I leave it behind,” he mutters, but there’s something akin to amusement in his tone.

           “I don’t know, though. You’re alive, so it did do its job, sort of.” Daichi tips the box of cereal back in his direction and he takes some, cramming it all in his mouth at once.

           “I’ll make sure to keep it close from now on, in any case.” He takes more Froot Loops and snorts loudly before he gets a chance to eat them.

           “What is it?”

           Suga beams at him and shakes his head. “Weight loss tip: cut your whole leg off.”

           “Koushi, that’s morbid,” Daichi reprimands, but he can feel laughter bubbling up in his lungs anyway. “People might actually try that if you advertise it.”

           “Good thing advertising is a thing of the past.”

           “Awful, Koushi. Just awful. I think those painkillers are getting to your head.” He taps two fingers against his forehead to emphasize his point. He gives up trying to fight his smile when Suga giggles at the contact.

           Suga sticks his tongue out at him. “Take some too, then, so you can stop being a killjoy.”

           He places a hand over his heart with an exaggerated gasp. “I didn’t realize I was dating a monster, geez.”

           Suga grabs the collar of his shirt and kisses him, repressed laughter dancing on his lips.

           By the time they’ve polished off the Froot Loops, they’ve both calmed down significantly from their playful moods (but not without a multitude of bad jokes and kisses to tide them over) and Suga’s reached the point of rubbing his eyes and yawning every few minutes. Daichi flattens out some blankets to fix their bed and helps him lie down, tucking pillows under his head and asking him repeatedly if he's comfortable enough, or if he needs anything. He shakes his head groggily and curls up under the blankets Daichi's given him.

           He’s just about as exhausted as Suga is, if not more so, but his bladder feels like it’s dying and he needs to go tell the kids to go the fuck to sleep. So he kisses Suga’s cheek and hurries out of the tent, shooing everyone to their own tents with a, “He's fine, just a bit sore, now for the love of god, go to bed.”

           Once he’s relieved himself and returned to Suga, he's out cold, even drooling a little. Daichi wipes his chin with his sleeve and crawls under the covers beside him, turning the light off and draping an arm over his torso as he rests his chin on the crown of his head.

           “Night, Koushi,” he breathes sleepily, smiling to himself.

 

*

 

           Daichi is only vaguely aware of the blankets rustling frantically, and of the tent door being yanked open, but he is very, very much aware of the sound of Suga retching outside. He kicks the rest of the blankets away and scrambles over to where he's fallen to their hands and knees barely a metre from the tent.

           “Hey, hey, are you okay?” he places a tentative hand between his shoulder blades, only proceeding to rub his back when he doesn’t react negatively to the contact.

           He throws up again, waiting a few minutes afterward to nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, I think. I don’t know what happened…” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he yelps and grabs at his stomach, tipping forward slightly and gagging a few times.

           “Koushi!” Daichi latches onto his arms and hauls him back into a sitting position.

           “Never mind, I’m not. It hurts a lot.” He scrunches up his nose and closes his eyes tightly.

           “What hurts, Koushi? What’s wrong?” Daichi asks, heart hammering against his ribs as he turns Suga to face him, pushing his bangs from his face and watching his expression carefully. He looks ready to cry, and Daichi tightens his grip on his arm a bit. “Koushi?”

           “My stomach, and my leg. And my ribs. And…and almost everything. It’s really cold, Daichi, it’s really cold.” The skin on his face and arms is warm enough to make Daichi worry about fever, but everything from his ribs down is _scalding_ , and he gives Suga an incredulous look as he rests the back of his hand against his stomach.

           Then he starts crying, really crying, reminiscent of the way he did while Daichi cut his leg off, and he panics. Something is terribly, horribly wrong, and he can’t even imagine what it is. He gathers Suga up into a hug, trying to reassure him, which just results in him bawling with his face against his shoulder.

           “ _Chikara!_ ”

           By the time Ennoshita tumbles out of his tent, tripping over himself as he yanks shoes on, Suga’s begun to gasp for air. Daichi knows he isn’t an expert, and that relying on his advice is probably putting a lot of unnecessary pressure on him, but he trusts Ennoshita to analyze situations and make appropriate decisions more than he does most people on the team. And whatever limited knowledge he has of how this stupid virus _might_  work, and all the complications surrounding it, and questionable survival skills (such as hacking limbs off with axes), Daichi is grateful for.

           “What happened?” Ennoshita asks, narrowly avoiding landing in a puddle of vomit as he drops to his knees.

           Sugawara’s been rendered speechless, between the crying and sudden inability to breathe, so Daichi speaks for him. “He got sick. He says everything feels cold but he's burning up. I mean it, too. This is the worst fever I’ve ever seen. I don’t know if there’s something wrong with his lungs or not… Koushi, sweetheart, can you breathe okay?” he asks, holding him at arm’s length to assess him. He's got his fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt right over his chest now, and Daichi isn’t too surprised when he shakes his head.

           He doesn‘t really want to know if he's infected. It would be pretty cruel of fate to still kill him that way after what he's been through today. He’d rather pretend that whatever is happening is just some crazy illness that will pass by daybreak. The sun will rise and Suga will smile and breathe properly and won’t throw up again, and the fever will go the hell away and all will be well in their little nest of idiot crows.

           “Daichi…” Ennoshita fidgets with his hands for a second, rubbing at his face and looking off into the distance before focusing on Suga again, distinctly doleful. “I think he's infected. I mean, don’t take my word for it, but…what else could it be?”

           Incidentally, the sky on the horizon is starting to grow lighter anyway, and Suga’s collapsed against Daichi, gasping as he uses him for support. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need to see how Suga sobs when he realizes that he is almost certainly going to die. He wants to scream just watching the way his chest is heaving; this is wrong wrong wrong _wrong_ , because Suga isn’t supposed to ever die and Suga isn’t supposed to ever hurt and he absolutely, above all else, does not want to witness this.

           “Help me get him back in the tent.” He picks Suga up and gestures with his chin toward the tent door.

           Ennoshita glances briefly between the indicated task and his captain. “Daichi, I have no idea how long—“

           Daichi saunters past regardless, nudging the door aside and maneuvering through. He might be fuming. Maybe. But he knows this anger shouldn’t be directed at anyone, especially not his teammate, so he keeps his mouth shut and gets Suga back into bed.

           When he looks back to the door, Ennoshita is crouching just outside, tears shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but I thought maybe we had a chance.”

           Daichi shakes his head and turns to place a hand on Ennoshita’s shoulder. “Thank you. You were more helpful than even I could have been. At least you tried.” He swallows thickly, dropping back to sit by Suga, who writhes under the blanket Daichi’s draped over him. He has nothing else to say to Ennoshita today, or to anyone else, for that matter. If Suga’s facing death, then Daichi will remain with him every second leading up to it.

           Ennoshita, fortunately, has no trouble reading the situation and backs away without prompting. He even has the courtesy to close the tent on his way (not that Daichi really notices, because he’s preoccupied with slipping his hand under Suga’s and comforting him).

           Suga's fingers tighten around his.

           “Hey.”

           Sugawara turns his eyes on him, bright with fever and red with tears and it’s painful just to make eye contact, but Daichi knows that for the next little while he needs to be as unwaveringly strong and supportive as Suga usually is. Suga forces a smile with his eyebrows drawn and shoulders quaking with the effort of breathing. God, he can’t stand this.

           “You know how much I love you, right?” He moves things around until he can sit cross-legged with his head in his lap (even through their clothes he can feel the blazing heat of Suga's skin, and it’s spread to his shoulders already, working steadily to his brain and he doesn’t want that, he couldn’t handle that). Linking their hands again, he places them directly over Suga’s heart, feeling it stutter and palpitate.

          “I do,” he whispers after a few moments, as his smile breaks and his lip wobbles again. “I love you so…so much, Daichi.”

           (Daichi wonders how he could have prevented this, and there are millions of things. Like every seemingly insignificant action had a tremendous impact on the outcome of everything up until this moment, where Suga is _dying_  and Daichi wants to die, too. It’s exactly that way, though; a second of difference could have changed their fates completely. Why couldn’t this have changed?)

           There’s an ache behind his eyes and when he feels the first tear fall, he doesn’t think to stop himself.

           “Do you want painkillers?” he asks, because of course he's in pain, and he can’t let him suffer any more than he already has.

           But he shakes his head. “I’m okay.”

           “You’re not okay, Koushi. You’re in pain. You said so yourself.”

           When he shakes his head again, Daichi sighs resignedly. He can’t quite force pills down his throat. “Where does it hurt most?”

           A few seconds and a skeptical look later, Suga gestures vaguely to his ribs. Daichi doesn’t miss the way he jumps when his hands settle against his sides, but when he starts massaging around Suga's chest he swears he starts to breathe with more ease than before. Not much, but it’s something.

           Relative silence befalls them as Daichi works to soothe Suga and Suga focuses on breathing.

           “Feel like I’m supposed to,” he inhales deeply and exhales tremulously, “to say something poetic.” His voice is slurred, noticeably but not horribly. Daichi pauses in his ministrations to touch the back of his hand to his forehead and has to scrub at his eyes when he finds it to be burning with the same sort of fever that’s overtaken the rest of his body.

           “What do you mean?” He finds his hand again and guides it back to Suga's heart. At least this way he can _know_.

           Suga opens his eyes slowly, taking several moments to focus on Daichi. His shoulders aren’t jumping so much with his breath anymore. “When people die in movies and stuff, they always s-say something weirdly poetic, right? All I can think is that I’m scared. I’m scared to die and I’m scared to turn into a…a zombie.” His gaze hardens (the fact that he's still crying counters the effect). “Don’t let me turn into one of them, Daichi. I might hurt someone.”

           “Oh, Koushi.” Daichi wipes his tears and cradles his face in his hand when he’s done. “Oh, sweetheart, of course not. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of everything.” He wishes that _Suga_  would just be okay, because isn't he always okay? He’s been living with this fucking delusional idea that Suga will always, always be fine, no matter what happens or how bad shit gets; like being an angel in his eyes somehow makes him invincible. He turns his face awkwardly against his shoulder to remove the tears making their way down his face, seeing as both his hands are currently occupied with one Sugawara Koushi, who happens to be just as mortal as the next person.

           Suga sighs through his nose and nuzzles his face against his hand, allowing for quiet once more, albeit a quiet interrupted by sniffling and sobbing and really, they’re just wrapped up in a ridiculous cry-fest that makes Daichi feel like the world is falling apart at the seams. (As though some natural disaster is taking place and only this small group of teenagers living on a roof know or care that the ground is about to split in two and destroy everything with it.)

           “Where’s the bird?” Suga mumbles suddenly, although not too urgently, and Daichi has to search a few moments before he finds it and slips it into his waiting hand. Suga gives him a miniscule grin and returns to resting with his cheek nestled in the palm of Daichi’s hand. “Forgot to finish its job.”

           “Now’s no time for jokes about toys, Koushi,” he scolds gently, rubbing his thumb over his beauty mark. But there’s not really time for anything at all, is there, what with the way his heart is slowing and the sluggishness of his voice and movements and the heat he's radiating.

           Suga doesn’t indicate that he plans to respond to him, so Daichi hunches over until he can press his lips to his forehead (his spine feels once again like it’s going to snap but he doesn’t care, and he kisses his forehead several times over to ensure he gets his message across; that he understands how grateful he is for Suga's existence).

           When he sits straight again, Suga scrunches his face up and whines. “I’m dizzy.”

                      “You’ll be okay,” he assures, moving his thumb again to let him know he’s with him, and he’s not going anywhere. “Do you need anything?” He avoids the ‘before you die part’, because that’s just awful and distressing.

           Suga hums. “’M okay,” he breathes, relaxing against him even more, and Daichi’s head enters red alert mode, panic rising swiftly in his throat. All he thinks is _please, please, please, no, don’t do that, stay awake, please_.

           He needs to stop crying but it’s _hard_ , dare he say impossible, and he grits his teeth and tries to keep himself stable even though everything is crumbling. Some force in the universe, hell if he knows what, wants him to suffer, because he’s just started to grasp at some remnant of his sanity when he feels Suga’s heart stop.

           “…Koushi?” He doesn’t know why he expects an answer, but the tension growing in his chest demands one. “Koushi?”

           Daichi resorts to petting his hair and staring at him, trying to commit every little detail of his face to memory even though he did that a long, long time ago. His whole body is tense as he talks to him, a tremor occasionally breaking through. “I’ve got you,” he tells him. “It’s fine. I’m here. It’s fine.”

           (It’s not, of course, but like hell he’ll acknowledge that.)

           When Ennoshita and Tanaka enter the tent, letting the light of the rising sun flood in with them, he doesn’t resist. He lets them take Suga. He’s not stupid. He certainly won’t be able to do anything for him now that he's dead, not prevent him from turning or dispose of his body, which makes him a liar. Daichi finds that he doesn’t really care.

           He doesn’t really care about anything right now except how much everything hurts. Ennoshita tries to talk to him, and in lieu of responding he curls in on himself and cries more. He wants to start the past 24 hours over again, he wants to go back in time a year and warn everyone about what was coming in an attempt to spare them all, especially Suga, because Suga doesn’t deserve this. But he’s stuck in this moment, so he weeps and ignores the hand on his shoulder and the voice filling the emptiness in the tent.

           A good captain never loses his composure around his team.

           Daichi never said he was a good captain.

           

           

           

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay before we get into ANYTHING else please understand that Daichi and Suga have developed a superbly unhealthy co-dependence or whatever the word is. Like that's not really a good thing that Daichi cannot function without Suga?? It's reasonable given the situation they're in but in most other cases this would probably be a huge issue like you should NOT have to rely on another person so much that you'd go catatonic without them. Even given their situation it's still a problem. Just so y'all know that. It isn't good.
> 
> Also uh. Yeah. So. This took me a while because I felt like the biggest asshole ever writing it so if you ever got pissed at me for not updating just know I was sulking for a solid two months over what I was about to do.
> 
> The ending is kind of rushed since I wrote the last 4 or 5 K words in the past two days but I am soooo fed up with myself for stalling like this so just. Take this and forgive me.


	10. Aftershocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide and related things

* * *

 

 

Ennoshita forces his hand to remain steady as he withdraws a knife from his belt. He’d fastened it there some hours ago, while he fretted and paced outside Daichi and Suga’s tent. It was only a precaution, and he hadn’t planned on using it; he’d just wanted to be prepared in the event that things went awry.

  
Things have gone very much awry.

  
No way he’ll back out of this now, not when he’s been taking charge of situations so much lately. He feels a moral obligation, now, to be a responsible adult in the face of destruction. And honestly, he’d rather not make one of his beloved teammates go through what he’s about to go through.

  
“You don’t have to watch, Ryuu,” he sighs, turning his attention to fixing Suga’s hair and clearing dirt and tears from his face. It’s pointless, he knows, but he feels _terrible_ about what Tanaka would call ‘putting him down’. Tanaka, incidentally, has refused to comment on Suga’s imminent zombification and instead has been blubbering and assuring Ennoshita that everything will be okay. Which is stupid of him, but Ennoshita won’t deny his desire to believe him.

  
“I’m not a baby,” Tanaka counters, and while he makes a point of lifting Suga’s hand into his own and watching his pale face intently, Tsukishima, behind him, turns to the side.  
He can do this. Suga's dead already anyway, though that’s no consolation. But at least he’s technically not killing him. It still sucks, and he still has to breathe deeply a few times as he holds the knife above his head.

  
The sound it makes when it pierces Suga’s skull is enough to make even Tsukishima flinch.

  
Ennoshita remains silent as he gathers the ratty blanket Suga's been laid upon in his arms and attempts to wrap him up in it. He’s feeling particularly uncoordinated right now, what with trying to keep his emotions under control, so he fumbles a lot and eventually Tanaka pushes his hands away and takes over. He doesn’t do much better.

  
Ennoshita scrubs obsessively at the knife with the rag he keeps tucked into his back pocket. “Kei, are you okay to carry him to the ground?”

  
It won’t be much of a challenge for him at all, especially given how small Suga’s become in recent months (no doubt due to his inability to take things for himself, food included). Tsukishima just nods; it’s what Ennoshita called him out here for, anyway.

  
With the horde at the bottom of the building cleared by Tanaka himself the previous afternoon, they have no troubles when they reach the bottom of the fire escape. He tries to rush them nonetheless, eager to be away from the sound of Hinata _wailing_ back in the camp.

  
There are a lot of things in that camp that he doesn’t feel he’s capable of handling at the moment. Like Asahi, who’s been moping and weeping since news of Suga’s injury first spread, who was desperate to see him and apologize for what he did, and Ennoshita kept telling him to just wait, let him recover a bit, let Daichi get his bearings again. Yet here they are, and Asahi is already emanating despondence despite Suga’s death being a minutes-old thing.

  
Everyone’s pretty devastated, when it comes down to it, but he sincerely doubts Daichi will be in any sort of mood to get back into the swing of things anytime soon. Ennoshita sighs shakily and seeks out Tanaka’s hand, desperate for some sort of anchor. There are so many things he needs to do today. So much has changed in the last half hour (and that’s just it; he was woken barely half an hour ago by Daichi and now he’s escorting Suga’s body – and severed leg -- to an old parking lot to be burned).

  
It’s the same routine again, except this time his heart feels so heavy it’s suffocating, and Suga’s dead and Daichi is probably crying himself into a fit back at camp and Ennoshita understands. He understands because he loved Suga dearly as well, much the same way everyone on their team treasured him. He understands because it’s not just Daichi’s loss, it’s everyone’s. (He understands because he knows he’d lose his grip on reality temporarily if Tanaka were ever to die.) After so much time spent together, growing closer and relying more and more on each other for happiness and comfort, any death is bound to break them. And it sucks. It’s disheartening and even calamitous but they’ve simply been too lucky thus far.

  
It was inevitable that they be dealt such a heavy blow after so many months spent running on good fortune. The Ukai incident was nothing in comparison to this.

  
He tries to keep the burden of everything to himself, hoisting the filthy container with a meager amount of gasoline in it into his own arms once Suga is placed near what Ennoshita guesses used to be Ukai. Tsukishima takes it wordlessly, despite only just being relieved of the weight of Suga’s corpse, and Ennoshita gapes at him but doesn’t protest.

  
Tanaka has his hand again, and he looks determinedly onward while Tsukishima tips the container and douses the blanket in gas. Ennoshita tries to do the same, but he ends up watching Tanaka, because it’s easier to look at him and know that he’s there for him than to look at Tsukishima and think about the task at hand.

  
There’s a tapping of plastic on asphalt at his feet and he chews the inside of his cheek and steps around the container, reaching into his pocket for the matches. Oh man, he has no idea how Daichi did this for coach Ukai. It’s more dignified, obviously, than rotting in the streets, but he spends at least two full minutes staring at the matches that look like they’ll burn him if he so much as touches them. This is hard. This is impossible.

  
This is so very, very wrong.

  
Tanaka steps up beside him, always a pillar of support even when he’s being a fucking idiot, and places a hand over the open matchbox so Ennoshita can make himself look away. He knows what he’s saying. He turns to Tanaka and shakes his head. “I can do it. I just...I feel bad, is all. I can do it, though.”

  
The matches don’t burn him when he reaches into the box and plucks one out. He’s quick to snap it shut anyway, lighting his lone match and tossing it at the soaked blanket and everything it contains. Which happens to be most of their hopes and dreams, incidentally.

  
He’s genuinely surprised he hasn’t just laid down somewhere and given up at this point. The sun is barely risen and he just wants today to be over.

  
“Sorry,” Ennoshita mumbles dumbly, turning on his heel to leave and finding Tsukishima sitting on the ground with his head in his hands.

  
This is undoubtedly going to be very hard for the first years. They’re all almost as dependent on Suga as Daichi. Before Ennoshita can even move in to say something comforting, Tanaka swoops in and crouches in front of him.

  
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, buddy.” He places a hand on his shoulder and urges him to look up. “It sucks; it completely fucking sucks, but we’ll manage somehow. We always do, right?”

  
There are some things, Ennoshita knows, that they simply will never recover from. He doesn’t want to state outright that this is one of those things, but he shakes his head sadly and keeps himself back. He won’t disturb them now, not when they need time alone to try to get along, regardless of circumstances. They _need_ to be close now more than ever.

  
Tanaka kneels, and Tsukishima’s head falls onto his shoulder. Ennoshita gives them privacy as much as he can. It really isn’t much, since they’re in danger out here and he hovers within two metres to keep an eye out for zombies or anything.

  
Admittedly, he’s proud of them. Even if it took someone so essential and influential to them _dying_ to not bicker for once in their lives. He shifts his weight anxiously from foot to foot and waits for Tsukishima to stop crying so they can go, because as much as he wants his teammates to get along he doesn’t want to risk them dying.

  
Once the body behind him starts to really smell like burning flesh and hair, he taps Tanaka’s unoccupied shoulder lightly. “We have to go. Sorry.”

  
There’s a lot more than an apology for disturbing them behind that, but if Tanaka senses it he doesn’t acknowledge it, presumably for Ennoshita’s sake. He does, however, help Tsukishima to his feet and keeps a grip on his arm the whole way to camp. The sky is mostly a flat grey right now, but Ennoshita watches dew drag down spiderwebs and evaporate from windowpanes along the way, and knows that soon enough the sun will win and spend yet another day scalding them. A cool, relaxing day would be good for everyone right now. Maybe some rain to suit the mood.

  
He’s choking on muggy air by the time he’s back on the roof. Encroaching sun notwithstanding, today’s weather is detestable already. Today’s general atmosphere is pretty detestable, if he’s being completely honest with himself as he listens in on the sounds of his team’s bereavement.

  
Tsukishima doesn’t trouble himself with loitering by the roof’s edge; he’s in his tent before Ennoshita can even catch his breath post-ascent. Tanaka, on the other hand, turns his body in the direction of the tents and twists his head to look back at Ennoshita, expressing more conflicted feelings through his body language than even his eyes. He doesn’t mind, really, that Ryuu cares so deeply about Yuu. It’s refreshing to see them as devoted as always.

  
Some time alone right now would be nice, anyway. “Go see Yuu. It’s okay. I’m sure he and Asahi both need someone to talk to right now.”

  
“Did you want to come?” Tanaka asks, uncertainty toying with his voice.

  
Ennoshita shakes his head and smiles as well as he can manage. “I think I need some time to process everything. Go take care of him. He’s your best friend, after all.”

  
Tanaka’s lips collide with his forehead with a bit more force than is entirely necessary, but he feels his smile melt into one that much more genuine as he reaches up to take his cheeks his in his hands and pull him down to kiss him properly. His fingertips twitch in the beginnings of tremors just as he lets go and he feels his nose sting when Tanaka straightens up and hurries off.

  
He’s done plenty of processing already. He has no need for more. All he really needs is time to mourn in peace, away from where anyone can see him, even Tanaka. Although, here works just as well as anywhere, so he crumples against the wall just as the burning in his nose and eyes becomes unbearable and he breaks down. He’s not just upset. He won’t even settle on devastated. He’s so many things at once right now that it feels like someone has thrown him into a lake of negative emotions and left him to drown.

  
Suga’s dead. Sugawara Koushi is dead and his body has been burnt and there is no turning back now and they are all so, _so_ fucked. Not just because this is going to screw them all over psychologically, but because without Suga, god knows what’s going to happen to Daichi, who existed as one being with Suga until this morning. Without a captain they’re going to fall apart and become disorganized and endangered and somehow, Ennoshita can place blame for all of that on himself.

  
It’s actually rather disgusting, the way he’s crying, scrubbing at his nose with his sleeve and shuddering and hiccoughing until he can barely take a breath. Everything just feels really wrong and imbalanced and fucked up beyond repair, and it’s astounding that the day before yesterday the team was whole, happy, and careless. As careless as they could be in such a situation. He inhales and exhales steadily several times to get his breathing back under control.

  
Ennoshita takes pride in being capable of recollecting himself and shuffling off to check in on Daichi (who hasn’t moved since he last saw him, except to take on a more defeated posture, shoulders hunched and head low) before Tanaka even leaves Noya’s tent. His eyes are guaranteed to be red, but Tanaka can’t exactly call himself an observant person, so he isn’t too troubled about his appearance.

  
“Daichi’s pretty much out of commission, eh?” Tanaka huffs as he fights his way through the tiny opening Ennoshita left in the tent door, too caught up in his feelings to be bothered with such trivial things as not breaking zippers. Ennoshita barely looks up from where he’s meticulously folding a piece of scrap paper. It’s covered in scribbles already from his time spent venting with a pencil in hand.

  
“Yeah,” he sighs. He’s been trying to keep that particular subject at bay as long as possible, actually, but if Tanaka wants to discuss the apparent doom of their team, then so be it. A team without a captain isn’t really a team at all (one without their captain is also inarguably screwed, but he is well a-fucking-ware of that as is). “I think he is.”

  
Tanaka drapes himself over Ennoshita’s shoulders and plucks the thoroughly wrinkled paper from between his fingers. “We can’t function without a captain. We’re fucked if he doesn’t take care of us.”

  
“Astute observation, Ryuu,” Ennoshita says under his breath, snatching the paper back. He doesn’t _mean_ to be so irate right now, but he’s frightened and lost and guilt is an anchor chained to his neck as he tries not to drown in a sea of negativity borne of his own helplessness. Suga and Daichi were essentially the only things that kept them alive this long; without them, the team won’t last. Especially not in the state Suga’s death has left them in. He crumples the paper up in his fist and hunches forward, pressing his hands to his face to shield Tanaka from his frustration and fear. “I’m sorry. That I didn’t do more or think faster or try harder.” He ignores the feeling of Tanaka’s weight disappearing from his back. “It’s my fault this happened. I didn’t mean to—“ he breaks off to take a gasping breath, eyes squeezing shut forcefully against the tears blurring his vision.

  
He tries to apologize again, but Tanaka kneels before him and grips his arm. “We’re not going to place blame for this on anyone, Chika. Okay? It’s not anybody’s fault this happened. Asahi blames himself, Daichi probably blames himself…I know you’re gonna find some way to tell me that you _are_ responsible for this, but you’re not. I feel like I’m to blame, and I was barely involved. I think,” he murmurs, carefully moving Ennoshita’s hands aside, “we all feel kind of guilty here.”

  
Somehow that only makes him feel worse. How must his teammates feel if he can barely keep himself from hyperventilating as his grief suffocates him? When he pries his eyes open, Tanaka offers a beguiling smile through the tears dripping steadily down his cheeks, and Ennoshita is so grateful for his presence he just whines like an injured animal and starts bawling. He’s scared of so many things right now, his dependency on Tanaka included. Before Tanaka can register the fact that he’s crying, Ennoshita grabs his face and kisses his forehead. “We’re so fucked, Ryuu. We are so, so fucked.”

  
And maybe, buried deep in a part of his heart he refuses to acknowledge, he blames Suga above everyone else for putting them in this position; he gathers Tanaka into his arms and cries at his own selfishness as Tanaka cries out of selflessness.

 

*

 

It’s only when Ennoshita feels weak from hunger (well past noon, when the sky is the greyest it’s been all day and the smell of rain fills the air with a promise of reflecting everyone’s mood) that he decides someone needs to take care of the team until they find a better solution than sulking in their tents. He tells Tanaka to come with him and starts putting some sort of sad excuse for a meal together, consisting predominantly of canned soup approaching its expiration date and stale chips. “We need a garden,” Tanaka comments as he nibbles at a shrimp chip and cringes at the taste.

  
Ennoshita gives him a soft, sad smile as a thanks for trying to distract him. “Yeah, I suppose we could try to start one, if we’re willing to risk it.” Having a garden would require being on the ground much too often for his liking. For the sake of not starving to death, however, he’ll be sure to run the idea past Daichi once he starts being responsive again. He knows for a fact that he hasn’t moved, because he’s dragged himself away from Tanaka several times throughout the day to peek into his tent with ‘Are you okay?’s and ‘Do you need anything?’s and ‘I’m so sorry’s.

  
He isn’t sure he’s ready to make everyone leave the shelter of their tents yet. He isn’t sure any of his teammates are ready to even consider leaving them. Accepting his fate with a sigh, he pushes some food into Tanaka’s hands and grabs some himself, tilting his head in the direction of the tent line. “Might as well provide some room service.”

  
He has yet to witness the exact extent of the damage caused today. Aside from Daichi’s apparent crumbling sanity. Now he carefully observes his teammates in their differing states of misery.

  
Kageyama refuses food altogether, shifting his arms so he can shake his head when Ennoshita offers it. Hinata, lying at his side with his face hidden in the fabric of Kageyama’s shirt, doesn’t even indicate that he’s going to respond.

  
Ennoshita leaves their dinner just inside the tent door.

No one is any better off. He wants to cry all over again just seeing them. No amount of coaxing can get Yamaguchi, already pale and sickly from blatant refusal to work at keeping himself alive, to touch any food. He makes sure to save Kinoshita and Narita’s tent for last, because he needs some time with them (with all of the team, if he’s being honest, but just being with some of his closer friends will suffice).

  
For the way Nishinoya must be feeling, he’s doing an exceptional job of ignoring his own troubles in favour of taking care of Asahi. Ennoshita doesn’t think twice about hugging them both and apologizing for not doing more, but Noya hushes him aggressively and he nods, taking his leave.

  
Narita hugs him before he’s even stepped into the tent, Kinoshita rubbing his shoulder and offering reassurances, and he feels Tanaka’s fingers in his hair briefly before he departs and leaves him with his friends. He wants to ask Tanaka to stay, too. They’re all second years, after all, and should work together to overcome obstacles like this.  
But Tanaka is going to Noya, who won’t dare leave Asahi’s side today, and Ennoshita understands, so he lets him go without a word.

  
The storm hits late, when they’re all settled in and discussing better days in hushed voices. They do their best to ignore the howling of the wind and the steady dripping from a hole in the tent fly, the peals of thunder and the overwhelming humidity of the atmosphere, and all Ennoshita can think about is Suga dying, Suga dying, Suga dying, even when Narita talks about the good things they used to have in life. It’s hard to concentrate on anything good, but he tries, and that’s what matters.

  
When he falls asleep with Kinoshita’s head on his shoulder and Narita snoring fitfully on the other side of the tent, he knows this is as content as he could have managed to be tonight, and it’s alright.

  
He dreams of Suga singing to him when he approaches him in tears over the death of a close friend, someone he considered a mentor. A parent, even. Sugawara reaches out to touch his shoulder and then he’s not singing anymore, but growling; Ennoshita slams his elbow into Kinoshita’s chest, hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, upon awakening abruptly with the image of Suga zombified plastered on his consciousness.

 

*

 

  
Tanaka doesn’t mean to frighten him when he grabs him from behind. It doesn’t stop Ennoshita from snapping at him and storming off, and naturally Tanaka trails after him and apologizes until he stops and listens. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better. I won’t do it again.” He kisses Ennoshita’s forehead and all is – kind of – forgiven as he nudges him farther from the tents. “Yuu told me something pretty important yesterday.”

  
“Define ‘important’. There’s…a _lot_ happening as of late, we really have to prioritize,” Ennoshita seats himself on the edge of the roof and Tanaka follows suit.

  
“’Other people nearby’ sort of important. The convenience store across the street, according to Yuu, who heard from Daichi, who we can’t, uh, ask. I don’t think.” Tanaka turns and gestures to the poor dilapidated excuse for a store as he speaks.

  
He isn’t wrong. When Ennoshita went to see Daichi this morning, he was met with a look red with something he couldn’t distinguish as specifically grief or anger, and he wasn’t looking to push his captain’s boundaries. “People. Did he say anything about them?”

  
Tanaka shrugs and hauls himself to his feet. “Just that Daichi warned him to be careful. I was thinking that we should probably check it out. Assess the situation or whatever it is you’d say.”

  
“We will,” he offers a sliver of a smile and stands as well. If it must be done, it must be done. “I’ll take someone today to do it, actually. You can stay up here and cover us in case anything goes wrong.”

  
Fifteen minutes later finds him and Narita on the ground, scurrying towards the convenience store while Tanaka and Kageyama watch their backs from the roof. “Are you positive they’re still there?” Narita wonders aloud, and Ennoshita glances around them and shrugs.

  
“Guess we’ll find out. I can’t see why they’d stay more than a day when that place is completely ransacked and the windows are shattered, though. They’re either really stupid or managed something really clever to stay there.”

  
He finds, upon first peering into the dim space, that there was an option for them that he overlooked entirely.

  
“Or they just died,” Narita says under his breath as he takes a step away from the hideous scene laid out before them.

  
Ennoshita, on the other hand, steps closer, examining the carnage in the aisles; whoever tried to take up residence there is certainly no longer alive, nor are they coming back anytime soon. There isn’t even an identifiable body part left. Some bits of flesh here, a puddle of blood there, a pile of bones every few metres. He swallows uncomfortably and knocks on the edge of the window.

  
Nothing has made an appearance after a full twenty seconds, so he nudges the door open and steps over what he assumes is the remnants of intestines. A horde would be his best guess as to what happened here, but he doesn’t recall any hordes passing by recently (then again, what with all the chaos and distraction of the last few days, he can’t say he’s been on the lookout for them).

  
“Wait out here,” he tells Narita, closing the door gently so as not to make any more noise. “I’ll pass bags out the windows.”

  
He has to clean guts and other unpleasant things from the overstuffed backpacks scattered about the floor, but there’s little to be done about the bloodstains. Narita accepts them with a frown but no protest. Ennoshita almost forgets that they’re in a dangerous position as he drags the last bag out from under a collapsed shelving unit and sets about untangling entrails from it. He hears the hissing of an arrow flying by and the wet _thunk_ when it hits its target. That better have been Tanaka’s arrow and not some crazy person attacking his friends.

  
But, no; Narita is fine. Ennoshita dumps the bag on the pavement and hops out the window after it to find him prying the arrow from a zombie’s skull. He turns to look up to where Tanaka, Kageyama, and someone else (probably Hinata, given how close they’re standing to Kageyama) are silhouetted against the rising sun. It’s hard to tell from here, but Tanaka looks to be giving them an overzealous thumbs-up.

  
It shouldn’t be as cute as it is.

  
He clears his throat and looks back to Narita, who stands clutching the arrow and awaiting direction. “Grab some bags. We should head back fast,” he orders, taking the arrow from him to return to Tanaka. The ones he arranges on his own back are not only heavy, but still wet and sticky with blood. He grimaces as he sets off with an uneven gait toward the fire escape.

  
Asahi or Tanaka might have been better-suited to this job, now that he thinks about it. Although they hadn’t taken the possibility of carrying heavy gear into account, so he sees no reason to complain about his own lack of adequate foresight.

  
A garbage can from the alley rolls out onto the road, clattering ferociously the whole way. Ennoshita freezes and looks over his shoulder at the offending hunk of aluminum. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” he breathes, dropping his bags and tearing Narita’s from his shoulders. He pushes him into a sprint ahead of him, not stupid enough to wait and find out what knocked that bin over.

  
He doesn’t even have to wait long anyway; a second garbage can comes flying out of the alleyway with a particularly gargantuan zombie tumbling after it, screeching its rage and hunger at them. Oh, they’re well beyond screwed.

  
A few more (notably smaller) monsters race after them as well, but Ennoshita focuses on the bellowing of the hulking beast that makes much faster progress after them. He’d expect the opposite, but its long legs must be a contributing factor in its speed, or perhaps its greater desire for food. Whichever it is, he feels like he’s going to vomit purely out of fear as Narita swings himself up the first four rungs of the ladder and bolts to the top.

  
This was not the plan – not at all. Even though Tanaka and Kageyama both are doing their best to take out the zombies, he still feels a hand close around his leg while he’s halfway up the ladder and then he’s falling right into the arms of the gruesome giant with the mangled teeth and jaw that open wide to kill him.

  
The arrow in his hand goes through its eye at the same time an arrow Tanaka shot pierces the back of its skull and one from Kageyama hits its neck, right in the spinal cord. He drops with it to the ground, momentarily stunned and too panicked to do anything. It’s the realization that he’s still in danger that gets him back onto the ladder and reaching for Narita’s hand.

  
“Are you hurt?” Narita cries, grabbing his forearms and looking over them. Ennoshita pulls his arms back and starts to drag the ladder up from the ground.

  
“I’m alright. It didn’t bite me,” he assures, yet his hands tremble as Narita moves to assist him and he worries he might start crying because he’s terrified. He could’ve _died_. He still could, any day, just like Suga, and he has to take several deep breaths before making his way up the stairs, keeping close to Narita.

  
As soon as his feet have hit the roof, his shirt is yanked over his head and Tanaka is prodding at his bloodied arms and spinning him around as he searches him for any sign of injury. “Jesus, Chika, are you okay? It didn’t bite you, did it? Is this your blood?”

  
“I’m alright. I’m fine.” He waves Tanaka off, reaching for his shirt, but it’s moved away and Tanaka produces a rag from his pocket to wipe his hands and arms down with.

  
“That was way too close. You gotta be more careful,” he scolds, smearing blood across the back of his hand. “And someone’s gotta go down there and get those bags, and move those bodies, and -- ugh -- that big one was _disgusting_ , are you sure you’re okay?”

  
Ennoshita grabs Tanaka’s wrist, forcing him to stop his poor attempts at cleaning his hands. “It’s alright, Ryuu. I’ll be alright.”

  
Tanaka sighs and pulls him into a hug, peppering the side of his face with kisses. “You scared the hell outta me, you ass.”

  
“It’s your fault you took so long to kill it, you prick.”

  
Tanaka laughs against his temple, softer than he’s accustomed to, and looks over his shoulder to where the first years are sitting in a relatively circular formation in the corner, giving them equally confused and sombre looks. Hinata looks especially frightened as he stares at Ennoshita, likely wondering whether or not he’s okay. Ennoshita sighs. “We need distractions. We can’t have our teammates in a toxic environment.”

  
With his shirt back on, he approaches the first years and kneels by them, all of them turning to face him but Yamaguchi, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but there now and hides his face in his knees to block out reality. “Could you guys maybe make some food for everyone? I’d like to see you working together a bit more often.”

  
Hinata pinches his eyebrows together, nodding at the pavement as though he’s afraid to look Ennoshita in the eye when he gives his agreement.

  
“Hey,” he interrupts them as they’re standing to leave, holding out a hand to stop them. “If you need anything, just let me know, okay? I want to know that you’re being taken proper care of. Whatever you need to feel better, just come see me.”

  
Hinata’s face crumples before he can blink, and then the poor kid is clinging to him and sobbing and Ennoshita was not ready for any immediate reaction, but he kicks a leg back to catch himself and hugs Hinata back.

  
“I know, Shouyou. I’m so sorry. If I could change this, I would.” He rubs Hinata’s shoulder, unsure of how to adequately comfort him but trying nonetheless. He sees the helpless look Kageyama gives them, sees the way Yamaguchi ducks behind Tsukishima with a hand over his eyes and how Tsukishima, in turn, pivots around to face him.

  
Hinata trembles in his arms and Ennoshita’s fingers dig into the torn red fabric of his hoodie as he holds him closer. Hinata is a baby brother to him now. He can’t stand to see him upset.

  
He hates to see any of his teammates this way. He always has, and now that they’re more family than they are friends he hates it even more. “You’re alright. We’ll be alright,” he murmurs, petting Hinata’s hair. His affection won’t make anything better, but he can provide better than Kageyama might; for as much as he adores Hinata, he isn’t adept at the art of comfort or affection or anything of the sort, and has had trouble adapting in this environment where those are necessary skills to remain a functional member of a team.  
When Kageyama stands, elbows slightly crooked and fingers spread but uncertain, Ennoshita grabs him and pulls him into the hug.

  
He hides his face in Hinata’s hair and weeps, and Ennoshita wonders again why Sugawara did this, why any of it had to happen in the first place. He thinks back to the very first moments spent in this new hell and his actions and his thoughts and his _everything_ , and he doesn’t want this anymore. He never wanted it before, but when his kouhai cry over the death of their beloved vice captain he wants to scream and curse the world.

  
Tanaka’s hand on his arm stops him at the last moment. He blinks and turns his head to look at him, relinquishing his hold on the first years, who don’t hesitate to latch onto each other instead.

  
“I think we all need to be together for a bit,” is all he says before stalking away to drag everyone else out of their tents and force them to interact.

  
He’s a very convincing person, apparently, because moments later Ennoshita is hugging Narita and Kinoshita on their way out of their tent, and then Asahi and Nishinoya. Despite Tanaka’s begging and threatening, Daichi remains hidden away in his own tent, staring at nothing and doing nothing and -- more than likely-- feeling nothing.

  
Or perhaps nothing outside of self-pity.

  
Ennoshita finds himself leaning into Tanaka’s side while his team sits around in mournful silence and stares at their feet. Asahi hides his face behind Noya’s shoulders despite the uncomfortable way he has to hunch over to do so. This has to be remedied somehow, and Ennoshita isn’t entirely sure _how_ , but he has some vague idea of how to begin.

  
“We need to push forward,” he announces, patting Asahi’s shoulder as he weaves between his teammates, head held high in an attempt at displaying a confident demeanour around them. “We all love Suga in some way or another, and we’re all going to miss him a lot. Even so, we can’t just mope around and wallow in self-pity for the rest of our lives. We need to keep going, and keep working to survive, even without Suga here to help.

  
“And for the record, it is _no one’s_ fault that this happened. I don’t care what you say, or think, or anything; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s, so we’re not placing blame. We’re just going to deal with the fact that it happened and it’s done and there’s nothing we can change about it.”

  
Nishinoya raises his hand and draws his eyebrows together. “What about Daichi?”

  
“Well,” Ennoshita hesitates, but they all know what their situation is and what they have to face until Daichi starts being properly responsive again (and no one is sure how long that will be, if ever -- he can see that much in their expressions), “he needs more time than we do, I’d imagine. He’s a bit...out of it, for now.”

  
“Yeah, but. He’s our captain,” Hinata sniffles, wiping at his eyes as he drops to the pavement beside his friends. “What can we do without him?”

  
“We can still function,” Tanaka says. Ennoshita realizes that he’s pacing now, heels jamming against the roof like he’s crushing his anxieties under his ratty boots. “We can manage.”

  
Yes, but no. Ennoshita’s throat feels dry because he knows they need someone to guide them for the time being; potentially forever. If forever is even an option. He works his tongue over the back of his teeth. Maybe he should ask Tanaka or Nishinoya to take Daichi’s place. Asahi wouldn’t handle that responsibility well, and Narita and Kinoshita have been quite straightforward in their refusal to accept leadership roles even before the drastic shift in their lives. None of the first years are eligible, so naturally it would have to be one of those two.

  
He nods to himself and clears his throat.

  
“Why doesn’t Chikara just be substitute captain for now?” Kageyama’s eyes are clear now, and although his cheeks are pink and raw, his lips are pressed together and his jaw clenched. He looks determined, for lack of a better word, and Ennoshita gapes at him in utter bemusement.

  
There’s no way he could do that.

  
He doesn’t qualify for any position of leadership. He’s flattered that Kageyama seems to think so, but he’s seen what the pressure of their environment has done to Daichi and he knows what a huge deal it is to have to carry the team on his back, and now it’s a broken and uncertain team that needs a perfect captain to make all the right decisions. He is _not_ a perfect captain.

  
“No, no, I--”

  
“Yeah! Chikara would be just right for that! You were gonna be captain anyway, weren’t you, Chika?” Kinoshita nods eagerly. Some of the shadows that have been darkening his face clear at the prospect of working towards a better future.

  
When Narita stretches his legs out and leans back, chewing his lip contemplatively, Ennoshita knows he’s screwed. They’re going to force him into this position regardless of whether he thinks himself suitable. “Isn’t he kind of leading us right now? I mean, he’s the one who’s been taking care of us for the past day. We’d all be pretty useless without him. Well, him and Ryuunosuke both.”

  
“Daichi and Suga can’t just be replaced like they’re nothing,” Ennoshita counters. “I think we should just leave the positions of captain and vice-captain alone and function a bit differently from now on.”

  
“We aren’t replacing them. We’re just asking you to look after us for them.”

  
He frowns at Tsukishima for so quickly destroying his very valid argument. This is all ridiculous. He turns away from his team to look out at the unsettlingly static world beyond their little roof sanctuary, at the wispy clouds on the horizon, at the red sun crawling downward through the sky, and sighs deeply.

  
“If I do it, you all have to listen to what I say. Do you want to do that?”

  
“We did it for Daichi,” says Kageyama coolly. “We’ll have a lot of problems if we all try to work separately, right? So it’s better if you keep us all together.”

  
A disjointed grumble of concurrence arises from some members of the team, and Ennoshita looks to Tanaka before nodding stiffly. “Alright. I’ll do it. But only until Daichi feels that he’s well enough to act as captain again.

  
“And before anything else I want the first years working on dinner. Hisashi, could you help them out? Ryuu, Kei, those bags on the street need to be brought up and emptied out.” He clasps his hands together and pretends they aren’t shaking. “Yuu and I can be on lookout from up here.”

  
Once everyone has consented to this development and to their currently assigned jobs, he dismisses them with a faint wave and scurries off to the supply tent to make sure everyone gets what they need. “Kazuhito!” he calls quietly as his friend wanders by. Narita slows to a stop right in front of him. “Hey, are you alright? I know what happened down there was --”

  
“I’m fine. Are _you_ alright? You still look like you’re gonna be sick.” Narita squints at him and Ennoshita pulls his face back a bit.

  
“Yeah, yeah: I’m probably just coming down with something. Look, could you do a supply check once we’ve got whatever’s in those bags added to what we already have? I want to keep track of what we have and what we need. And, uh, keep it between just you, me, and Hisashi, but I want to keep an eye on the third years.” He clears his throat and tugs at the edge of his sleeve. “I don’t want everyone to spend all their time worrying about those two, so we need to make sure they’re eating and exercising and whatever. Okay?”

  
“Yeah, of course. I mean, I’m sure Yuu has a pretty good handle on Asahi already, but I’ll make sure Hisashi knows to watch out, too. Just in case.”

  
“Just in case,” Ennoshita agrees. He draws Narita into a quick hug as the first years approach, Hinata leading them and Kageyama a step behind.

  
“What are we cooking?” Hinata asks brightly, in such contrast to his earlier foul mood, as Narita escapes just in time to avoid being caught up in that particular whirlwind of energy.

  
Ennoshita manages a smile as he steps aside and grants them entrance into the tent. “You’re making it. You choose.”

  
He lets them go to town on the food supply and grabs the rest of the arrows for their crossbows. He’ll have to ask someone to get whatever arrows can be salvaged from the bodies below whenever they get around to moving them. He’ll be in charge of organizing something for that issue, as well, and then everything else, of course.

  
Wow, does Daichi’s job ever suck.

  
With the first years preoccupied with cooking and the bags finally brought up from the street (with no incident and an order not to open them quite yet) Ennoshita takes to the ground himself and drags a vaguely reluctant Kageyama behind him.

  
Together, given several hours, a lot of effort, and more gore on their clothes than they had hoped to end up with, they haul all the bodies away from the apartment and behind other buildings or into deep alleys. Since they’ve never really bothered to do much with the zombies they’ve killed around here, or if they did it was always minimal effort and at the convenience of everyone involved so only a few bodies would be moved out of the way at a time, there are several dozen lying around in various states of decay. Some such that, upon being lifted or even jostled in the slightest, they come apart with a disturbing squelching noise. He gags and nearly vomits more than once during their cleanup mission, and he’d have thought that a year of this shit would give him a stronger stomach than this, but he’s comforted in an odd way by the fact that Kageyama seems no better off.

  
He scrubs the hell out of every available inch of his skin when he gets back up to the roof. All his hard work is ruined, however, when he finally gets around to opening the bags and examining their contents, soaking his arms in a whole new layer of grime. He’d worried about finding something unsettling or even dangerous in them, but now sees that it was for naught: the contents are standard survival gear.

  
That’s what he’d hoped for: the tiniest little morale boost in the face of devastation. The discovery brings out several smiles and some cheering from Tanaka, even if they all go back to grieving by the time the sun sets.

  
He gives the new supplies to Narita, settles down to eat dinner with Kageyama (which, surprisingly, the other first years didn’t _char_ , although the rice is a bit crunchy and the meat somewhat crispy), and when all is said and done, and everyone safe in their beds, Ennoshita finds that sharing a tent with Asahi, Nishinoya, and Tanaka is simultaneously soothing and unpleasant. While he’ll always appreciate the company of his friends, the way Asahi still occasionally sniffles and Tanaka’s tenseness beside him reminds him that their lives are worse now than ever before, and for all he tells everyone not to blame themselves he keeps thinking about how he is the cause of this.

  
But how can a person who caused his friend’s death keep the rest of his friends alive?

 

*

 

Ennoshita rises before the dew has started to disappear under the sun, whether simply out of the restlessness of his mind or because he had a nightmare, he can’t be sure. There’s a cloud of thick fog hanging over everything, waiting for circumstance to destroy it. He uses this as cover while he sneaks across camp, snagging a long-bladed knife from the supply tent and nothing else. The fire escape is notoriously noisy; Ennoshita lowers himself as carefully as he can from the roof’s edge, pausing as the rattling dies down to listen for sounds of life in camp. Hinata still dozes soundly at his guard post, a good thing only in this moment and a sign that maybe he'll manage this little adventure with no issue. When there’s nothing after he’s spent several minutes crouching in the shadows, he makes his way down the rusted steps with extreme regard for the slumbering teenagers nearby and a precision he didn’t previously believe he possessed. His heart thumps anxiously, his mind fumbles with stress and helplessness and frustration until his fingers are white around the knife handle.

  
He needs to vent, if he could call it that. Relieving tension by stabbing undead people isn’t exactly healthy, he knows, but sometimes there are no better options.

  
He makes sure he’s at least a block from the apartment complex before ramming his fist against the doors and windows of some unidentifiable building until he hears movement inside. He yanks the door open and sinks the knife madly into the skull of the first rotten, foul-breathed demon to snap its teeth in his direction. It’s a well-practiced motion: knife to head, knife to head, fluid and repetitive now that he’s lived in this world of death and undeath and _redeath_ for near a year.

  
His arm tears back and blood hits his face, his chest, runs down his forearm until it drips from his elbow and soaks into his socks through the holes in his boots. It’s absolutely rank and feels syrupy, chunky against his skin but he’s too preoccupied with the task at hand to give a single shit.

  
By the eighth building and well beyond the thirtieth zombie, he’s out of breath and overloaded with adrenaline. He slams the heel of his boot into the forehead of the last one to fall and it gives with little resistance, splattering gore up his pant leg. He takes a moment to rest, cursing his situation, watching brain and blood alike ooze out into blonde hair as he breathes deeply and ignores the smell.

  
There’s a thud from the doorway and before he can even react hands are squeezing at his arm and a gurgling growl assaults his ears. Ennoshita gasps and tries to pull away, resulting in himself tumbling to the ground with the zombie landing on top of him. Everything is vivid and slow as it gnashes blackened teeth centimetres from his face, spitting and snarling so that bloody saliva mixes with the mess on his cheeks. _This is how he's going to die,_ he realizes, scrabbling beneath the zombie as he searches for his knife. This isn’t how he wants to die, not amid the bodies of monsters he’s slain with his own hands, in front of some ramshackle building with a sign so worn and cracked it’s illegible, while none of his teammates know where he is or probably that he’s even gone in the first place. He struggles to breathe through his own overwhelming panic, something that seems to have as fierce a hold on his throat as it has on his heart.

  
With a gasp that fills his lungs with foul air, he heaves the zombie off of himself, deflecting its next attempt at killing him by aiming his fist at its nose. By the time it’s after him again, animalesque in its murderous intent, he has his knife and the terror that drives his arm forward to protect himself with.

  
This was fucking stupid in the first place, and he’s well aware of that, but it didn’t stop him. It’s a “never again” kind of thing now. Never again for himself, and never will he allow a teammate to go off on their own, regardless of circumstance.

  
He cries the whole way home without wanting to (because even bad decisions aren’t going to change what he’s been dealt), jumping at every breeze, every noise, hands tight on the knife, which still drips thick blood onto the pavement occasionally as he walks. He wipes uselessly at his face with the rag from his pocket, then gives up and tosses it onto the road, cursing himself. His itching frustration has dissipated, yes, but now it’s been replaced by the common fear he’s been dealing with since day one, to a higher degree.

  
Well, he’s made his fair share of dumb, emotionally-driven choices now, and he did the same before this apocalypse, and he surely will in the future, despite the impact this one will have on his decision-making process.

  
It’s late enough now that everyone must be awake, and sure enough someone is pacing at the top of the fire escape when the building comes into sight. “God, Chika, what the hell happened?” Tanaka barely touches the steps when he descends them, instead leaping down them one section at a time until he’s flung himself into Ennoshita’s arms. “Where were you? Whose blood is that? I cannot _believe_ you’d just up and leave like that, you complete -- I was so worried.”

  
He finds himself tearing up again at the raw pain in Tanaka’s voice, and hugs him back with all his strength. “I’m sorry, Ryuu. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I was just...angry and scared and I needed to do _something_.”

  
Tanaka hushes him and wipes his cheeks clean with his thumbs. “It’s okay, babe. I understand. It’s alright. Let’s just go get you cleaned up, okay?”

  
Ennoshita nods and lets Tanaka guide him back up to roof. Kinoshita is upon him instantaneously, tugging at his clothes and demanding answers to the same questions Tanaka asked. “I’m alright. Nothing bad happened. It was just a momentary lapse of judgement.” He accepts his friend’s offer of a hug and relaxes at the intimate contact. “I am _so_ sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

  
“Better not,” Kinoshita grumbles, squeezing him tighter. “Ryuunosuke almost cried when he couldn’t find you. He had the whole team in an uproar.”

  
He isn’t given a chance to reply because Narita slams his full weight into him from the side, and it’s only Kinoshita’s astounding balance that keeps them upright. “You crazy asshole. What did you do?”

  
Ennoshita fights an arm free and embraces Narita properly. “Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, slapping his shoulder roughly and grinning because being around his friends gives him such a strong sense of security. “It was dumb. I’m alright, though, really.”

  
He’s trapped under overly-affectionate arms and overly-alert looks for the rest of the day, eating a bowl of bitter old soup with Kinoshita pressed to his side and washing dishes with Tanaka and Narita keeping a stern eye on him by drying them. He’s not crazy; he isn’t planning on risking his life like that again, no matter how stressed he is.

  
And he _is_ pretty damn stressed, all things considered. His hands tremble while he organizes his tent before bed, airing out the rank blankets for a few minutes and turning the pillowcases inside-out. While he recollects the blankets from outside he pauses to stare over at Daichi’s tent. Whenever he comes out, Ennoshita is going to be as displeased as he will be relieved, because he did not want the responsibility of caring for these kids before and he certainly does not want it now. But he’ll be happy to see his captain and senpai acting normal again, to any degree.

  
“I still want to know why you thought that was a good idea,” Tanaka chides as he shimmies through the partially closed door.

  
“It has a zipper, you know.”

  
“You’re avoiding the question.”

  
“Technically,” Ennoshita grumbles, pointedly averting his gaze, “you didn’t ask a question.”

  
Tanaka cracks a smile, closing the tent door the rest of the way. “You’re such a shit. Kids are in bed, by the way. Kei is on guard duty for the streets, Hisashi for the fields. Their choice, not mine. Now.” Bundling the blankets Ennoshita just finished laying out so nicely into a pile to sit on, Tanaka rests his chin on his hands. “Why did you think waltzing through death valley without anyone knowing what you were doing or where you went was a good idea?”

  
Ennoshita _harrumphs_ and steals all the pillows in retaliation, settling back among them. “I didn’t think it was a good idea at all. I’m not an idiot.”

  
“Well then why did you do it?” Tanaka snaps, hands curling into fists on his knees as he sits upright. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? I thought you had gone out there and...and killed yourself, or been killed, or _something_. I was wondering how I was supposed to survive without my best friend, now that he had died. I shouldn’t have to think about that, Chikara!”

  
_With the world we live in, you do,_ Ennoshita thinks. He rolls over a bit to face Tanaka. “I thought Yuu was your best friend.”

  
“That’s a different meaning of the word and you know it,” Tanaka whines exasperatedly. “Why won’t you just answer my question, Chika? I want to know why so I can help.”

  
Silence befalls them, the kind that is terrifying because it’s _too_ silent with no animals daring to make a sound and no traffic, no music, no crowds of people chattering in the streets or laughing as they hurry into shops together. The kind of silence borne of the world’s end. Ennoshita looks away again, putting all of his attention to the gaudy orange nylon of the tent wall. “I almost did.”

  
“...Huh?”

  
He swallows and starts picking at a bit of hanging skin by his nail. “I almost died today.”

  
The silence comes back, shorter this time but as unsettling as ever. “Oh,” Tanaka breathes finally, and the blankets shift as he moves about uncertainly.

  
“I’m sorry.” He isn’t sure if it’s worse that it happened or that, until the incident itself, he knows that something in him craved that sort of finality. Until he had gazed into death’s reeking, gaping maw and _felt_ the horror of it, he’d wanted to die. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I went out this morning because I needed to _do_ something and...and because I _wanted_ to get hurt, but I don’t anymore, I swear it, it was so stupid.”

  
Eyes burning, he presses a hand to his face and whimpers lowly. Tanaka touches his shoulder but makes no further move to comfort him, undoubtedly uncertain in his current position. “Chika...babe, I know you’re upset. And stressed, and scared, and whatever shitpile of emotions we’re all feeling or will feel or...y’know. Let me help. I’m here to help.”

  
He can’t help, and while the sentiment is appreciated, Ennoshita is bitter about it because he wants to fight his own battles but he really doesn’t want to fight this battle. He’s too fucked up for it, he knows. Most of them are beyond repair at this point, but it’s easier to see it in himself than in others. “It’s so… _ugh_ ,” he grumbles, not sure how to even describe how his life feels right now. He laughs despondently. “Everything is happening but _nothing is fucking happening_ because the world ended. And you probably get it, to some extent, I _know_ , Ryuu. I’m sure you’re dealing with that in your own way, too. I am not dealing with it well, is the issue here. Not at all.”

  
“Better than some of us.”

  
“But not all of you. So why am I expected to take care of you all? That’s not right, that I have to keep you all alive when I’m not sure I want to even keep myself alive.” He presses his face into the pillow even though Tanaka already knows he’s crying, if only to retain some semblance of dignity here.

  
“Hey. _No_. You’re not the only one keeping us alive. We’re supposed to keep each other alive. This is a _team_ , not a...I don't know politics words,” Tanaka squeezes his shoulder and retracts his hand. “We can take care of ourselves, but we’re also gonna look out for each other. You don’t have to be the only person in charge here. Plus, I'm temporary vice captain, remember? I gotta help you out.”

  
“Well that sure hasn’t worked out spectacularly so far, has it?”

  
“Oh, please. You’ve watched zombie movies with me lots of times, and played all those games. It’s a _miracle_ that we’ve survived as long as we have. And only one person on our team...well, y’know. In an entire year, we’ve only lost one person. We’re doing a pretty damn good job of taking care of each other.”

  
Ennoshita drags himself slowly into a sitting position, leaning his weight back on his hands. “Sugawara was not ‘only one person’, Ryuunosuke. He was…He was so damn important I don’t even have words to explain it. How dare you consider it a victory that he's the only one who’s died.”

  
Tanaka raises his hands defensively, looking at his knees. “Chika, you know I didn’t mean it like that, you know I--”

  
“Take it back.”

  
“Babe, I understand--”

  
“ _Now._ ”

  
He sighs in defeat and locks gazes with Ennoshita. “I’m sorry. I take it back. I know how important Suga was to our team, and I know what a huge loss that is. I didn’t mean anything like...that.”

  
Ennoshita nods and lays back down, facing away from Tanaka again. He snags a blanket to pull over his shoulders. “Good.”

  
After clearing his throat several times and peddling his feet for a few minutes, Tanaka speaks again. “Did you love him?”

  
“...Yes. Not the same way I love you, or Daichi loved him, but I definitely did. Like he was a sibling I was close with, or a parent, or something. We probably all felt that way, though.”

  
Tanaka hums in agreement and slips off his blanket-pile to sit closer to him, rubbing his back soothingly. “I understand that, yeah. He kept us all happy and...and _hopeful_. That’s probably the most important thing we needed all this time.”

  
“I just wish it wasn’t him. I’m not saying I’d rather have someone else on our team die, but, I just wish it wasn’t _Suga_ , you know? I wish it wasn’t anyone.”

  
“I know. It’s fucked up that any of this is happening. I think we’ve just gotta deal for now and try to stay alive until stuff gets better.”

  
“If everything weren’t so ass-backwards I might feel a little more hopeful about that,” growls Ennoshita, bunching up the corner of a pillowcase in his fist. His fingers twitch around the fabric.

  
Tanaka heaves a sigh and slumps down beside him, demolishing his throne of blankets to cover himself with. “Don’t make me start singing the _High School Musical_ soundtrack, because you and I both know my English is bad and I can’t sing for shit.” His voice breaks just the slightest bit toward the end of his sentence, betraying his otherwise composed and playful demeanour.

  
Ennoshita rolls over to face him and takes his cheeks in his hands. “It’s alright to cry again, Ryuu. Grieving isn’t a thing that’s over with fast. It’s gonna come back over and over even years from now. That kind of pain never goes away.”

  
“You say that like you expect us to be alive years from now,” Tanaka mumbles, grimacing as he tries to hold back tears.

  
“Look who’s being pessimistic now,” he teases, though his hands shake against Tanaka’s face and he’s starting to cry again, as well.

  
They spend the next while thinking of similar things, curling into one another and weeping and dreaming of a life where they are all safe and happy; where their greatest concerns are volleyball matches and upcoming tests, and Kageyama whacks Hinata on the back with his book bag for stepping on his foot, Hinata retaliating by cramming an entire meat bun into his mouth and kicking him in the shin (Daichi would scold them, then, because Suga bought those meat buns and if Kageyama spits it out he’ll make him pay for team treats for the rest of the year). That was a better time and Ennoshita dreams, also, of going back to it. He presses his face into Tanaka’s shoulder and asks aloud how they ended up like this instead, with Suga dead and everything broken and frightening. Tanaka doesn’t know any better than he does.

  
At some point they both fall asleep, wrapped up in each other in the corner of their tent with tear tracks on their cheeks, and the rest of their team in a similar state.

 

*

 

“Wake up, wake up!” Kinoshita grabs the poles of Hinata and Kageyama’s tent tightly and gives it an aggressive shake “You’re gonna miss breakfast if you don’t get out of bed!”

  
Within five seconds, four first years, each as delirious with exhaustion as the next, pile out of the tent and trip over each other, landing in a heap without having even made it completely out of the tent itself. Hinata takes advantage of the predicament by sprawling out on the spot and immediately starting to snore quietly.

  
“He fell asleep on me,” Tsukishima says bemusedly, as Yamaguchi wriggles out from under Hinata’s leg and stands to stretch, chuckling quietly all the way.

  
Smiling, he crouches and pokes his cheek, avoiding the drool that’s running down Hinata’s face and soaking Tsukishima’s shirt.

  
Kageyama’s head _fwumps_ down on Hinata’s chest. “It’s too early,” he yawns, joining Hinata in slumber.

  
"What an inspiration to us all," Ennoshita says, shaking his head as he approaches and looks down at them.

  
Yamaguchi and Kinoshita join him, and Tsukishima covers his face with his hands. "Should we let them sleep?" Kinoshita wonders, turning an inquisitive gaze on Ennoshita.

  
Ennoshita shrugs. "Eh. Give them a couple more minutes. It's not like we have anything important to do this morning. Good luck, Kei." With that, he spins on his heel and waltzes off to finish cooking the last of the venison for their breakfast.

  
With a simultaneously horrified and pained expression, Tsukishima lets his head fall back against the cement. "I have to pee," he whispers despondently, and Yamaguchi snickers into his hand and pats Tsukishima ' shoulder.

  
"Hey, Ryuu, how does going on another hunting trip sound?" Ennoshita asks as he clears the stove and dishes out everyone's breakfast. "We could use more meat in our diet."

  
"Sure," Tanaka shrugs, accepting his food with a grateful nod, "when did you want to go?"

  
Ennoshita considers for a moment (today wouldn't be a bad idea, but he isn't sure he wants to go back to the ground quite yet) but before he can answer someone screaming draws his attention. Exchanging a confused look with Tanaka, he slams the container in his hands down and breaks into a run, Kinoshita and Tanaka close behind.

  
It's Noya, he realizes, kneeling behind the tents, crouched over Asahi and _wailing_.

  
"Yuu! Yuu, what's wrong?" Tanaka drops to his knees beside him and starts scrabbling at Asahi's arms, trying to figure out what happened. He pauses suddenly, one hand resting on Asahi's chest as Nishinoya rocks back and forth beside him, still sobbing. "Chika. He's not breathing."

  
Ennoshita feels the earth tilt, stumbling forward another few steps to crouch at Asahi's side as well. He has no idea what to do. Asahi lies still before him, and he looks dead and he's _probably dead_ and Ennoshita just blanks.

  
Tanaka presses something into his hand. "Chika..." It's a pill bottle. An empty pill bottle.

  
_Fuck_.

  
"Yuu, what happened?" he asks as he feels for a pulse in both his wrists and his neck. There's nothing either way, and his skin is cool to the touch.

  
Noya presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and breathes deeply, outright refusing to look at Asahi again. "I woke up and he was gone, so I figured m-maybe he...I don't know, went to piss or something. But when I got outside I couldn't see him, and then when I looked around a bit I...I..." he dissolves into sobs again, only composing himself enough to ask, "Is he okay?"

  
Ennoshita takes a trembling breath and shakes his head. "He's dead, Yuu."

  
Noya nods and hunches over, curling in on himself. Tanaka gathers him into his arms and lifts him away with ease, carrying him off as Ennoshita contemplates his options. He swipes at tears with his thumb and twirls the bottle of painkillers in his fingers. Asahi must have taken them from the tent, since Nishinoya keeps plenty on hand at all times.

  
Well, he should make sure he doesn't turn before anything. He might not, since he never got bit, but he'd rather not take the risk. Unhooking his knife from his belt, he makes quick work of putting it through Asahi's forehead.

  
"Dammit, Asahi," he sighs, rubbing his temples as he stands up. Someone is going to have to help move him soon, reluctant though he is to consider even having to burn another of his friend's bodies within a week of the first.

  
He comes face-to-face with the first years when he turns around. Hinata scurries back several steps and covers his head with his hands. "I...we....we heard Yuu scream and we...sorry...uh, is he...?"

  
"Yes, Shou. Asahi's dead. I'm sorry," he says robotically, tucking his knife back and out of sight.

  
Yamaguchi bursts into tears.

  
“Kei, could you help?” Ennoshita asks as calmly as he can manage, gesturing toward Asahi’s body.

  
He doesn’t want to, clearly, but he nods anyway and nudges Yamaguchi back toward the front of the camp just as Narita approaches. “Jesus. What happened?”

  
“He died. That’s all there is to it. Help us get him out of here before Yuu loses his mind,” Ennoshita hooks his arms under Asahi’s shoulder, so Narita tumbles forward to grab the other one. He watches Kageyama rest his head on Hinata’s shoulder and hide there while Tsukishima is forced to lift Asahi by his legs and maneuver him out front behind the row of tents, the word ‘unfair’ drifting through the air on repeat. Yamaguchi is sitting with his forehead on his knees and his hands tangled in his hair, completely oblivious to the world around him. They all send him pitying looks as they pass, and he stands abruptly to storm into his tent.

  
Tanaka brought Nishinoya into his tent, and the whole team can still hear the poor thing sobbing and moaning as his friend tries to calm him. Ennoshita blinks tears away and stares at the billowing clouds in the sky to avoid the problem at hand as well as he can.

  
“Here, Kei,” he nods over the roof ledge to the fire escape, “hop down and we’ll lower him to you. Tobio! Could you come with us to watch for zombies, please? And bring the matches and gas."

  
Kageyama appears just as Tsukishima lands on the platform below, cheeks raw and eyes dull. Ennoshita hands him his knife and claps him on the shoulder.

  
The three of them ease Asahi feet-first onto the fire escape platform, letting go once Tsukishima has gripped him tightly enough to hold him upright on his own. They all hurry over the ledge to relieve Tsukishima of that burden as quickly as possible.

  
On his way down, he watches Yamaguchi use a stolen match to set fire to the calendar he’s so diligently worked to keep all this time.

  
It's a silent and uncomfortable trek down the road, Asahi's body swaying between them as they trip over themselves, yet he’s preoccupied with wondering whether a calendar should matter this much to him.

 

*

 

"Here," Ennoshita halts and together they set Asahi down near Suga's burnt remains. They probably would've wanted to be laid to rest side by side, even if it isn't in the ground as it should be, and he figures if anything ever happens to Daichi, they'll lay his body here, too.

  
Which is a morbid enough thought without taking into account the fact that Daichi could very well end up just like Asahi at any time. He understands that Asahi felt guilty about what happened even though it wasn't his fault, and he knows for a fact that Daichi feels guilty, too, on top if having lost his significant other. Ennoshita takes a deep breath.

  
What a great week he's having.

  
The last of the gas barely covers Asahi adequately, and no one seems to be in any mood for kind words or grandiose speeches, especially given the tension of the environment between their own grief and the constant threat of being attacked. He lights the match, tosses it, and starts walking away before it can even catch.

  
“We better get home fast. I don’t want to end up with any accidents along the way.”

  
Speak of the devil and he shall appear, he supposes; no sooner have the words left his mouth than a zombie comes blazing out of the alley at the end of the lot and lunges, tailed by several others. It wouldn’t be an issue, except that Narita doesn’t move fast enough to actually do anything about it besides block his face with his arms.

An...inadvisable action, to put it kindly.

  
It feels like he’s been punched square in the chest when he watches one of his closest friends being bit. All the air leaves his lungs with a subtle _whoosh_ and he stumbles backward, then forward again, then launches himself at Narita just as he’s overtaken by a second zombie.

  
He’s as good as dead already, but Ennoshita cries out and snatches his knife from Kageyama before the kid even manages to collect enough sense to reach for it, swinging at the first zombie and slicing clean through the back of its neck. The others are so close, _so close_ he wonders if he’s going to die, too, but then Narita pushes him away with panic alight in his eyes and blood pouring from his arm and shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Narita chokes, gaze flickering back to his astonished friends as he roughly elbows the monster that took a chunk out of his shoulder and knocks it onto its ass. And he runs away from them, straight into the oncoming pack of zombies that immediately swarm around him.

Ennoshita doesn’t move for a moment, until he hears Narita _shriek_ and then everything explodes in his mind. Oh god, this is not how this was supposed to go; he can’t do this, he can’t _deal_ with this.

  
With a heartbroken wail, he moves forward again to chase after Narita, because he can’t let this happen. He can’t just let him die like that, so suddenly and painfully, and he won’t stand idly by and listen to him die and watch his blood run rivers through the cracked pavement.

  
Tsukishima, apparently, understands how hopeless their situation is. He grabs Ennoshita from behind and lifts him bodily off the ground, carrying him away from the scene as Narita’s cries break off. Kageyama helps once he’s come back to his senses, catching Ennoshita by the arm and running alongside Tsukishima to get them back to camp as quickly as possible.

  
He doesn’t exactly make their journey easy, fighting and screaming and squirming the whole way, despite both of them telling him to stop because he’ll attract more and get them all killed. He doesn’t give a shit. He doesn’t want to do this anymore.

  
They’re almost back to the building when the two first years stop dead in their tracks and Ennoshita, given the freedom, slumps to the ground in defeat. He hopes there are stupid fucking zombies coming to kill them because he is _not_ fucking enjoying this shit life.

  
“Is that…?”

 

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Tsukishima breathes, and Ennoshita raises his head only slightly to look.

  
Kiyoko Shimizu and Yachi Hitoka are running toward them. Or he’s hallucinating. He’s probably hallucinating, because his head is pounding and his whole body is shaking violently. He gives an anguished whimper as their old team managers draw closer, and promptly faints.

 

*

 

“Hey, you okay?” Kinoshita is asking, hovering above him and prodding at his face and arms with concern clear in his expression, albeit nearly overshadowed by sorrow.

  
“Hisashi!” Ennoshita gasps when he finds his voice again. “Oh, oh no, I’m so sorry, I tried to help him, I swear, but he stopped me.” He starts crying again without warning.  
Kinoshita nods and gives him a teary smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I know,” he whispers. “I know. Kei and Tobio told me.”

  
“I’m so sorry.”

  
“I know.”

  
Ennoshita opens his arms in offering, and Kinoshita doesn’t hesitate to engulf him in a hug. Neither of them really knows what to say to comfort the other, primarily because neither of them feel they can be comforted. They just cling to each other, hidden away in Ennoshita’s tent, until they can’t cry anymore.

  
“What a messed up day.”

  
“I think you mean life,” Kinoshita corrects, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. He takes Ennoshita’s hand again and doesn’t let go this time, and it’s Ennoshita’s turn to offer a reassuring squeeze. After a moment, Kinoshita sighs. “I don’t know what to do without him.”

  
He considers his words carefully for a while. “I’m sure he’d just want you to keep trying. It’s what we’ve been doing all along, after all.”

  
“Did he say anything?”

  
Ennoshita shakes his head miserably. “Just that he was sorry.”

  
Drawing his knees up to his chest, Kinoshita rests his chin on them. “He knew, right? That he was going to die?”

  
“Y…” Ennoshita has to clear his throat, but his voice is still hoarse when he speaks, “Yeah, he, uh. He got bit a couple times. It would’ve happened anyway, and I could tell he knew that much.”

  
“Think he did it to save us from the same trouble we went through with Suga?” he says it in a semi-joking tone, but Ennoshita can see in the set of his jaw that he’s serious. He never got a proper goodbye, he realizes. None of them did. In a way, he does wish Narita had just let them take him home so he could’ve said his piece and died surrounded by people who loved him, not…

  
“No,” Ennoshita says firmly. “No, he did it to help us. I mean, what predator is going to waste time and energy chasing after its prey when other prey has literally thrown itself at its feet.” He sucks in a breath upon noticing how… _morbid_ that is in the context of his friend’s death. But it’s true, however unfortunate it is. “He sacrificed himself, sort of.”

  
Kinoshita contemplates this momentarily, then nods. “I guess that’s a good thing, then, right?”

  
“I wouldn’t say so,” Ennoshita counters, shifting to sit in the same position. “I mean, he’s dead. It’s not a good thing at all.”

  
Humming in agreement, Kinoshita turns a tearful gaze on him. “I understand how Daichi feels now.”

  
He doesn’t get an opportunity to respond, interrupted by Tanaka diving into the tent and latching onto him. “Chika! You’re awake! What the hell happened? You didn’t get hurt, right?”

  
“No, Ryuu. I’m alright.” He can’t really breathe with how tightly Tanaka is holding him, but he cracks a faint smile anyway. “Sorry I worried you. I just got a little overwhelmed.”

  
Tanaka relinquishes his grip to press kisses all over his face. “It’s fine, babe. I’m just happy you’re awake. And I’m so sorry about what happened at the parking lot.” He turns to Kinoshita and rests a hand on his head. “Hey. You need anything?”

  
“Nah, ‘m fine,” he mumbles, wiggling his feet as he looks down, uncertain. “Thanks, though.”

  
“Well, lemme know, okay?”

  
“...Okay.”

  
“Good.” Tanaka grins and turns back to Ennoshita. “Yachi says Kiyoko wants to see you.”

  
Ennoshita stares blankly at him. “What?”

  
“They’re here, Chika. Yachi and Kiyoko. They’re alive and they’re in the camp.”

  
Well, perhaps he hadn’t been hallucinating after all. It had been a reasonable assumption regardless. He untangles his feet from the edge of the blanket and hurries out of the tent, Tanaka choosing to stay behind and sit with Kinoshita (which comes as a great surprise to Ennoshita, seeing as it’s Kiyoko who he’s going to see).

  
She’s sitting on a rusted vent shaft staring at Yachi and the other first years, who are still hunched over and bleary-eyed and clearly hurting more than they should be, but the presence of their beloved manager has lifted their shoulders just the slightest bit.

  
“Kiyoko…?” he breathes as he approaches. She looks up and smiles a tiny smile and shifts over to give him a place to sit. He eases himself slowly into the space beside her. “What happened?”

  
It’s vague, but she knows exactly what she means, and looks up at the clouds for a while. “We met up with Ukai and Takeda at the school,” she says, so quietly that Ennoshita has to strain to hear her. She almost looks afraid to speak, and rather than turn her eyes on Ennoshita, she ends up staring at Yachi again. “Nobody else was there. We waited around for a bit but there were too many. We had to go.”

  
They must have shown up after the rest of the team left. What spectacular timing. Here they’ve been wishing for their managers and coach and advisor for a _year_ and running under the assumption that they were dead (Ukai is for sure, but the rest was pessimism and an understanding of how unlikely their survival is) and it turns out they missed each other by maybe a few minutes in the beginning.

  
He doesn't say this aloud but Kiyoko continues without awaiting a response. "We ended up with a group pretty quickly. But that didn't last very long; we thought the woods were safer but most of them still died. And...and when Ukai ended up being bit, Takeda wouldn't leave him, and he wouldn't kill him, he just sat with him and waited and--" she lurches forward suddenly, grabbing at her hair and breathing heavily. "We heard him screaming while we ran."

  
“Hey!” He drops to his knees and catches her by the shoulders, helping her to sit up straighter. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s in the past. You don’t have to think about it,” he soothes, tucking her hair behind her ear before standing up to hug her.

  
It’s a few minutes before her breathing calms, and by then Yachi has stopped chatting with her friends and is entirely focused on their interaction. Ennoshita chooses to ignore the fact that he’s being so closely observed, moving instead to sit at Kiyoko’s feet and rest a hand on her knee. "We found him. He's gone now."

  
"Takeda or...?"

  
"Ukai. We haven't seen any sign of Takeda, but we found Ukai in the woods and Daichi took care of it." The words taste foul but he forces himself not to grimace as he rubs his thumb on Kiyoko’s knee. "He's dead now, for real."

  
She takes this news surprisingly well, nodding slowly and removing her glasses to clean the one lens left. "I'm sorry about what happened to Asahi and Narita."

  
Ennoshita sighs deeply and it rattles in his chest. "It's life now. Nothing to be done."

  
The conversation turns to how Kiyoko and Yachi found them (which was apparently just ridiculous luck and immaculate timing) and their struggles trying to survive on the ground. "I never would have thought of living on a roof," she admits, turning her head to survey the camp. She catches Yachi's eye and nods, a small smile breaking out across her face. "Is it nice here?"

  
Ennoshita shrugs. "Nice as it can be, I guess. We still need food and supplies and what have you, and...bad stuff still happens, but it's definitely better than living on the ground would be."

  
He realizes then that their managers could have ended up like the people in that convenience store, or if they hadn't been so lucky then the whole team might have. His mouth goes dry. How easy it is to die.

  
"I'm happy you're alive," Kiyoko tells him quietly, and he nods dazedly.

  
"Me, too."

 

*

 

“You were talking to Shimizu.”

  
“I…” Ennoshita raises an eyebrow at the fierce, scarred little creature standing before him, fists planted against her hips, and is that even Yachi? She reaches up to scrub some sweat from her cheek but there’s no change in the power she seems to hold over him, tiny though she may be. “Yeah?”

  
“Hm,” is all she says as she lets her stance relax into something substantially more “Yachi” but definitely not there yet. “She doesn’t really do that much anymore.”

  
He knows that dilemma well enough. “Yeah, Tadashi’s the same. I can understand it, though. We’ve all been through a lot. We’re all handling it differently.”

  
She smiles, then, and it twists with the scar that runs from her upper lip to just above her ear. “She really missed you, you know. She was really happy to see you. Well, and scared, too, because you collapsed like that, but she’s definitely happy to have friends around again.” When Yachi turns to join the other first years again, it’s not so much with a flounce as it is with a swagger. He doesn’t like what this year has done to anyone.

  
“You -- both of you -- you’re very different now,” he says, just loudly enough that she can hear. She spins on her heel, eyes hard and jaw set until her expression changes suddenly to something more amused. Ennoshita has to read the way her lips move to understand what she says to him.

  
“I could say the same about you.”

  
A worn smile graces his features. “Yeah. Like I said, we’ve all been through a lot. You more than me, or so it would seem.”

  
Tilting her head to the side, Yachi hums contemplatively and picks at her jacket sleeve, an old habit of anxiety that Ennoshita not only recognizes from their old life, but is familiar with himself now. “It’s a relative thing.”

  
“I suppose. Aren’t you hot in that?”

  
She takes in his apparel and then her own, apparently having not noticed any major differences before. “Yeah,” she says, nodding. “I am, but it’s safer like this.”

  
“What do you mean?” He takes a step closer and she squares her shoulders, defensive like an animal in a territorial dispute, and Ennoshita could laugh, but it’s tragic.

  
“It’s not safe to expose your skin around them.” She sounds bewildered, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world, and it kind of is.

  
“But in the _summer_?”

  
She laughs. It’s quiet, and hollow, and it hurts his ears despite how soft it is. It hurts him for reasons other than its volume. He winces. “You’ve never had to live down there. You wouldn’t understand.”

  
He almost asks why she didn’t just do what they’ve done, why she couldn’t escape to somewhere she couldn’t be reached, take Kiyoko with her, taken Ukai and Takeda when they were still alive, but he doesn’t want to upset her. Or piss her off. Something about her warns him not to pry where he already knows he shouldn’t. Yachi is dangerous now, in good ways and bad. They all are now, aren’t they? “Did you want something else to wear?” he asks instead, running a hand through his hair and grimacing at how greasy it is, at the bits of _something_ caught in it. “We have extra clothes. T-shirts and stuff.”

  
“I’ll consider it,” Yachi tells him, but the way she hugs her jacket tighter to herself lets him know he’s lost. She nods curtly and turns away again.

  
Then the first years have congregated again, Yachi ruffling Hinata’s hair and Kageyama kicking Tsukishima’s knee as they bicker, and Ennoshita knows he has to stop worrying about new arrivals and start focusing on more urgent problems. He takes a granola bar and hurries over to his tent.

  
Kinoshita doesn’t contribute much to their conversation. He doesn’t eat the food, although he does open it, and Ennoshita feels weighed down by the atmosphere in the tent as he and Tanaka not-so-calmly discuss the future.

  
Tanaka is concerned about much the same things as Ennoshita; he asks about the psychological well-being of their teammates, whether Daichi and everyone else in his situation (he throws a subtle glance at Kinoshita but says no names) should be more closely monitored after what Asahi did.

  
Yes, but realistically everyone needs to be monitored. Ennoshita himself has considered suicide before and he's sure he'll do it again no matter how Tanaka tries to comfort him and anyone else tries to help. He doesn't need to keep everyone under constant surveillance, he needs everyone to see hope for the future. He needs them to believe they'll all be alright soon.

  
"Hisashi, would you mind sharing a tent with Yuu from now on?" he asks on his way out. Kinoshita nods and takes a bite of his granola bar.

  
"That's fine. I'd rather not sleep alone anyway."

  
Tanaka follows him outside but goes straight to Noya without sparing any attention for anyone else. Ennoshita admires that level of dedication as much as he fears that somehow Tanaka will get hurt by this, more than he already has been. Noya expresses no desire to work with him or keep himself alive and while Tanaka adores him, Ennoshita knows that adoration can be dangerous in this situation.

  
On his way to see Kiyoko again, he stops to press a kiss to Tanaka's forehead and whisper an "I love you" to him.

  
It won't be strong enough to keep him safe from this world, but it's enough to make him smile, and for now that's all Ennoshita cares about.

 

*

 

"Hey." Ennoshita slides down the half-wall to sit beside Nishinoya, who is staring blankly into the distance and doing nothing to shield himself from the heat of the sun. "You're getting a sunburn, y'know."

  
Noya lifts his arm to examine the new shiny redness of his skin. He hums and drops it onto his lap again.

  
He tries a different approach to get some kind of sensible reaction from him. "Shouyou really hates seeing you like this."

  
It's the morning after the day straight from hell, and Nishinoya hasn't left this spot since he woke up several hours ago. It's not a lie that he's upsetting Hinata, among other people. Nishinoya Yuu should be the face of strength in the worst of situations. Ennoshita can't blame him, though. He just frowns and leans back to take in the sun's warmth.  
Out if the corner of his eye, he sees Noya scowl at him, but he still says nothing.

  
"I'm really sorry. About Asahi. About everything, really. I want to be free of this as much as you do. I understand."

  
Noya mumbles something and looks away, and Ennoshita straightens up to watch him carefully. "What was that?"

  
"I said, no you don't. How could you? Ryuu's still alive, right? Until he's dead you won't _understand_."

  
Ennoshita gapes at him. "Are you saying you want Ryuu dead?"

  
"No. Hell no. Of course not." He buries his face in his hands. "I just -- ugh, I don't know. I just want it to be different. I want to...try again and do better this time and I hate this. I hate this. It's not fair."

  
If anything were fair they wouldn't have been here in the first place. But what value does fairness have in hell? He shakes his head sadly at Nishinoya even though he can't see it. "It's never going to be fair again. We'll just have to accept and expect that."

  
He leaves Noya to his own devices and makes the arduous trek to Daichi's tent. No one's told him anything yet, but surely he's guessed by the commotion lately that big things have been happening.

  
"I'm coming in," he announces as he opens the tent door and steps inside.

  
It's been less than a week since Suga died but his captain has the beginnings of an impressive beard darkening his jawline. Dirty dishes that no one thought to collect from their relatively immobile leader nearly trip him on his way in; he turns to set them outside, then sits across from Daichi on his knees.

  
Daichi presses his lips together and watches him warily.

  
"Asahi's dead," he says evenly, looking Daichi right in the eye to gauge his reaction. He wonders if he'll realize that in some ways this is his fault, for not being there for his friend and for clocking out of reality altogether and making Asahi feel way more guilty than was necessary. "Kazuhito is, too. And we found Yachi and Kiyoko, but Kiyoko tells me Takeda was killed by Ukai." Daichi lowers his gaze and nods, and Ennoshita sighs. "We could really use your help right now."

  
"Wouldn't know what to do," Daichi rasps, scratching absently at his chin. "Wouldn't know what to do," he repeats.

  
"Nobody does!" Ennoshita snaps. "But you're our captain. We trust your judgement. Or at least we did. Someone needs to go convince them that everything will be okay."

  
He doesn't know what to make of the distant expression on Daichi's face until he speaks. "Koushi could do that."

  
Trying to keep his tone as gentle as possible, Ennoshita pinches the bridge of his nose and says, "Sugawara is dead, Daichi. Just like Asahi and Kazuhito and Takeda and Ukai and all our families. They're all dead and there's nothing we can do about that."

  
"Well," Daichi says slowly, lifting his head to look directly at Ennoshita. There's something dark and ominous and hopeless clouding his eyes, and Ennoshita gulps but doesn't look away. His captain is hurting, he knows, and he should help him, not avoid him. "You should go convince them that everything will be okay, then. Because I don't think it ever will be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially this fic wasn't even planned to have the managers but I just couldn't help it. I love them and they deserve to be included.  
> Also more EnnoTana 2k15  
> Talk to me. Seriously. ryuutora on tumblr. I love you all and I wanna talk about sports anime shit.
> 
> Thank you a million times over for reading.


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